Quirky Magic (AKA The Soldiers Murder Case)
by Le corbeau noir
Summary: AU. Not long after the end of the LABB Murder Cases, L meets a peculiar street-performer in London. Phoenix, the name given to him when he asked, quickly caught his attention, even more so after the artist became the unwilling witness to the first murder of a new serial killer. Rating might change.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Death Note aren't mine.

Pairing: HP/L

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><p>London is a big city.<p>

On cities of such size, many small details pass by unnoticed by most of the crowd. Parks become invisible, historic places of great importance are ignored and the weather is underappreciated, no matter if it snows, rains, or is simply sunny.

It is on a city such as this that this story begins.

London was quite familiar for Harry Potter, but not _this _London. He always had the impression that his quirky magic would one day pull him into a giant mess, but never expected something quite like this.

In early summer after 5th year, Dudley had decided that he was bored, and that by playing Harry-hunting, he'd be cured of his boredom. The 'game' grew to alarming proportions, nothing that needs to be described, causing his magic to react and send him to an alley on this rainy, different and unfamiliar London.

Not only had he somehow ended up at a place where magic was only the product of a child's mind, but the year was wrong too. He ended up on the 22nd of July of 2000, four years later than what it was supposed to be.

He wasn't alone, though. Just a few seconds after he finally realized he was lost in the middle of an unfamiliar London, with nobody's help, no magic, nothing, a white blur came from the sky, ending up on his left shoulder and nipping rather forcefully his ear. Hedwig.

As it has already been mentioned, London is a big city, where things like dark alleys, beaten-up boys and white owls pass by unnoticed.

It would take a few years still before the youth was finally noticed by someone.

But, oh, what a memorable event that would be.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor Death Note

Pairing: HP/L

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><p><em>Two and a half years later… December of 2002<em>

The man previously known as Harry Potter had adjusted quite well to his new life. He was eighteen years old, has been so for six months in fact, and loved his new existence, which consisted of himself, Hedwig, and last but not least, freedom.

He hardly ever noticed before, but the wizarding world, his status as the Chosen One and the war with Voldemort were suffocating him. He didn't miss much, ever since the death of his Godfather, he started noticing that, maybe, the wizarding world wasn't really the place for him.

This opinion was one of the reasons he now thanked his magic so much for helping him run away.

At the beginning, naturally, things were extremely complicated. How was he supposed to explain the reason why there were no records of his existence, why he had no parents, why he didn't go to school?

Harry opted, instead, for living on the streets. Well, more or less. Hedwig had, somehow, found the perfect place for them both to live, an abandoned building that wasn't too decadent. Any rat that now dared to enter the place would instantly become her meal, and Harry had a place to stay and a roof over his head.

He had changed his name, also. Not officially, since he obviously did not have records, but whenever asked, he told them to call him Hadrian Black. The only exception for this was when he was performing: in such a case, he went by the name of Phoenix.

The way Harry, now Hadrian, found to guarantee that he would have enough food to survive, was to be a street performer. He did many things for the 'show', including malabarism with knives (he was surprisingly good at it), music (with a violin he found while shuffling the attic of his residence, and learnt to play very quickly with another street performer) and, naturally, he also performed as a magician. One of the best in the streets of London, if not the best, since he was a real wizard, even though he had no wand. Still, he made a point of mastering the muggle tricks to present, with the purpose of not being too obvious with his real magic.

When he wasn't doing his 'job', nor at his home, he tended to hang around the public library a few quarters down from his home, in an effort to catch up with the normal muggle schooling, though he quickly got distracted with other subjects. His actual system was to study whatever caught his fancy, although he always took the time to study the basics, especially math and English.

Among the subjects he had been studying ever since he started frequenting the library, were psychology, law, chemistry (potions, anyone?) and foreign languages such as French, German and Spanish. Hadrian also read about rhetoric, philosophy and meditation, the last one being vital for learning how to direct his magic with his will, instead of spells and wands. In his pursuit for knowledge, he discovered his love for literature, especially detective novels. As such, it was with wide eyes that he accompanied the progress of many cases on the media, taking notes, elaborating theories and using all the information he could collect in order to solve the cases, making it a silent and one-sided competition to find the culprit before the police.

At first, he failed spectacularly, but soon was able to keep up with the officers, and then began winning his 'game' most of the times. The reason he became so interested in detective work was because of his experience with going after and poking any and all mysteries at Hogwarts. Guess the habit never died down.

Anyway, he always wondered about what Hermione and Ron would think about his new life. After some time pondering over the topic, he concluded that while the ginger would be excited about the detective work, the bookworm would be enchanted by his newfound love for learning. Figures he'd only excel in subjects he chose for himself, rather than the curriculum approved by the ministry.

His constant presence at the library resulted in meeting his first friend in this new London. One of the volunteers, Bethany 'Beth' Fox, often stopped by his desk to talk to him. Afterwards, he also became friends with Sophia Marvelin, the street performer and music teacher who later taught him to play the violin, and Lucian Marvelin, her brother who worked at the hospital... Damn, he forgot the name again.

All in all, Hadrian was extremely pleased with his new life. Pity he had no idea how much it would change in the following months, but if he knew, he'd be looking at his watch and urging the time to pass faster.

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><p>As it has already been mentioned, it was December. Hadrian, in a whim, decided he wanted to do something different this year. He called Sophia Marvelin to help, and now, they were at the park surrounded by their spectators, mostly parents and children so well 'wrapped' against the cold they could be shipped off to another continent and arrive with next to no damage.<p>

Sophia was in charge of the music, while Hadrian did his magic. He did some of his usual tricks, pulling off some Christmas-themed ones, plus his signature: he pulled an owl from a Christmas cap. Frankly, much more original than the usual rabbit.

Having been waiting until his audience was at its' peak, he signaled the violinist, who announced the grand finale. As Hadrian picked up the things he'd need, he began his story. Never lying, he narrated the dark times of his childhood, keeping his story as light as possible to avoid scaring the children.

For that, the topic he talked about was food. He told them about having been made to cook for his relatives, but not being able to eat the food. The magician also said that, for a long time, he was convinced he didn't like to cook, but discovered only a few years ago that he did enjoy doing it, especially sweets.

He smiled mischievously then, and said he'd be doing one for them.

Hadrian completed it with an apology, saying that since he didn't have any cooking utensil with him, he couldn't do anything normal, but that he had everything he needed to make a sugar sculpture.

In front of him, there was a small table, a box, a teacup filed with sugar, and just a bit of water in a plastic cup. He asked the children what they would like sculpted and asked Sophia to pick a kid.

The woman pointed to a child with a Spiderman costume, who immediately declared he wanted a spider. Hadrian smiled, nodded, and then begun to show his audience that he would only use the water, the sugar, and the empty box, which he dismounted to show was perfectly normal.

Then, he assembled the box again, turned the teacup inside it, lightly touched the water with his fingertips, and asked someone to time 5 minutes for him to use. A second later, he dipped his head and began to work.

When the time was up, Hadrian's head came up, grinning wildly. He partially dismounted the box, showing a corner of it.

Inside, a small spider laid on top of a beautifully crafted spider web, all made in sugar.

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><p>Somewhere in the middle of the crowd, carefully hidden, gray eyes watched deeply interested both the magician and the sculpture.<p>

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><p>AN: Well that's it for today. Thank you all for reading, I enjoyed seeing your reviews ;)

Next chapter comes in one, maybe two days. No promises, though, I'm also working on an original story.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor Death Note

Pairing: HP/L

Well, I suggest you all to read the author's note at the end. I'll be revealing a few details that will be important later on the plot. It's just a suggestion, though.

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><p>A few hours later, Hadrian was at the coffee shop owned by Bethany's mother, where he could always get free coffee and a pastry on the end of the day. He sat on a soft sofa, sighing happily for finally being able to get out of the cold.<p>

The place was mostly empty, and Hadrian used the solitude to go through one of the cases he was accompanying. It was pretty simple, he had picked it mostly to distract himself and maybe have an idea in how to proceed in another complicated case where he got stuck.

It was just a second before his pen touched the paper to write the name of the culprit, when a voice said softly over his shoulder. "It was the woman."

Hadrian turned around quickly, having been caught by surprise, and met wide gray eyes, with long lashes and large shiners under them.

"But you already knew that, did you not?" Hadrian blushed and broke eye contact. The man was just too close.

"Yes, I knew. Were you looking over my shoulder?" Hadrian asked, calmer now that the scare he got passed.

"I was." the man said nothing after it.

"Would you like to take a seat?" Hadrian offered, gesticulating towards a free seat. "This place gets lonely at the end of the day."

Hadrian followed the man with his gaze as he crouched on the couch opposite to him. Examining the odd view, he found him attractive, despite the unusual appearance. Yes, quite attractive, the street performer thought while his eyes swept over messy black hair, snow-white skin, penetrant eyes and baggy clothes.

He wondered why the stranger had approached him, and asked. The man didn't even blink. Undisturbed, Hadrian then suggested his new acquaintance to pick up the menu and order something, because Mrs. Fox was coming towards them and she'd force feed him if he refused to eat. He also commented that she'd done it to him many times in the past, using his skinniness as a justification.

That got him a reaction.

Five minutes and a giant order later, they found themselves divided by a table full of sugared goods. Only the coffee on the magician's hand had been ordered by himself. Hadrian took a sip of his hot beverage and held up the case he was having problems with.

"Well, then, if you are going to sit there eating and looking at me as if I was a lab experiment, would you at least help me with this file? I seem to have gotten stuck in it, and it's driving me crazy." He said, handing over the aforementioned document.

His companion picked the file, opened it and skimmed over the data. "I suppose it is acceptable."

That night, Mrs. Fox left the coffee shop in Hadrian's care after she went home. The pair working together inside only left in the earlier hours of the morning, although the case had been solved in less than an hour.

The rest of that night was spent debating over desserts, criminal psychology and fighting styles, among dozens of other topics.

Neither noticed that they didn't know the other's name, but they had a meeting scheduled at the same place, same time, the next day.

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><p>The following morning, while one Hadrian Black slept tiredly in his bed, The World's Three Greatest Detectives, L, pondered over the happenings of only a few hours before.<p>

He was in a white and almost completely bare room. The only things inside were L himself and a laptop. The man had his left leg tucked under him while the other was slightly extended, with his spine a bit crouched. He wore exactly the same outfit of the past night; in fact, he was always dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt and baggy jeans. The detective had a thumb resting on his bottom lip as he watched the video feed he got from the coffee shop once again.

He had already run a scanning program to try and identify the male he had first taken notice of in the noon of December 21st and had approached a few hours afterwards.

No results came up, except for the many videos on the internet of his performances, identifying the man by his artistic name, Phoenix. The videos weren't uploaded by the magician, however, but by some of his spectators. Some had nicknamed the performers as 'The Birds', in reference to the alias of the male and the owl that normally accompanied him. Apparently, the woman's name was still being debated.

Well, maybe not. The next video he watched, the street performer presented her as Colibri. A quick research on Google revealed it was a species of Hummingbird.

Anyway, the problem persisted. Phoenix didn't exist in the records of any country. There were no school records, no hospital bills, no identity matched his face. Thankfully, no criminal records as well.

L knew he should have asked for a name, but, at first, he had entered the shop to eat, and recognizing him, only approached the man to examine him from a shorter distance. After that, they both got so wrapped up in their case-solving, playful bantering and vicious debates they forgot to ask the other's name. Still, the pair was scheduled to meet again that night.

The detective would have preferred to be able to extract the identity of Phoenix from the man himself, but he knew that it was safer to research the male's life before meeting him again. Now, though, since an image scan didn't reveal anything, he would be able to take up his first choice. L was waiting eagerly for an opportunity to do so. He had the feeling getting Phoenix's name would require a tortuous and incredibly entertaining combination of persuasion, distraction, begging, philosophical discussions and bribing with sweets, among other things.

That last element was another thing that surprised the detective. Though Phoenix was no genius, he shared many characteristics with L, such as his love for sweets (although the magician didn't eat nearly as much), the thrill for solving cases, and the interest in many subjects, like criminal psychology and law. The street-performer, however, didn't know how to play tennis nor capoeira, but apparently was well-versed in street-fight and le parkour.

Shaking his head, L opened a file in his laptop. He had asked to choose the case they would solve at their next meeting, and Phoenix didn't even bat an eye. The chosen case was slightly more difficult than the previous one, and was selected from one of the files he was going to work on under one of his aliases. Not anymore, though, if Phoenix saw the case had been solved around the same time they did, he might connect the dots and uncover his pseudonym.

L wondered if the magician would be performing that day.

Better yet, he wondered whether he could convince the male to make a sugar sculpture for him.

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><p>AN: Their meeting was supposed to happen in a few more chapters, but my muse wasn't really cooperating.

About the killer: Well, his or her's killing spree will actually be based in another book. Not that this fanfiction will be a crossover with it, but it will be as if the killer read the book, liked the idea, and decided to make their own 'reading' of the murders in 'real' life. The book will be mentioned later on the story, but I've hidden the name among other titles because, really, I know this will drive some people up the wall. After I reveal which novel the killer choose, its title will be in the disclaimer among HP and DN.

Another thing, on the following chapters, if you have difficulty identifying the point of view, just look at the names used for each character: If it's L, then his real name will be mentioned and Hadrian will go by Phoenix, and vice-versa if the POV is Hadrian's.

Besides that, won't be updating for a few days. Chapter 4 will be updated around Monday or Tuesday.

Thank you folks for Reading.

...

Almost forgot to mention it, there will be a slightly change in the title after I show which book the killer will base him or herself. Not much, though, you'll still be able to find this fanfiction with the original title.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor Death Note

Pairing: HP/L

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><p><em>"Ten Little Soldier Boys went out to dine;<em>

_One choked his little self and then there were nine."_

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><p>Hadrian Black, also known as Phoenix when performing, woke up around 11 o'clock feeling sleepy. He knew he shouldn't have spent the whole night awake, but he couldn't help it.<p>

After gulping down a very much needed dose of caffeine, he decided to spend the rest of the morning in the library and go "work" after lunch. Hadrian met Beth Fox around the crime novel section, organizing the bookshelf.

Since he was already familiar with the library's organizing system, he went to her left side and begun to work.

"This is your favorite section, isn't it?" She said after a while.

"Yes, it is." The street performer answered. After a few minutes of silence, he sighed. "Hey, Beth?"

"Yes?" She said absent-mindedly.

"Do you have any suggestions for me? I have already read the books I took last time."

"Go to the next shelf. Agatha Christie's books are there." Beth answered.

"Thank you." He said as he finished the shelf he was organizing and left.

Hadrian selected a few books from the suggested author, "The A.B.C. Murders", "And Then There Were None" and "Murder in Mesopotamia". As he went to sign out the novels, he saw that the volunteer at the counter was looking at Beth's direction with a worried expression.

"What happened?" The performer asked.

The elderly woman snapped out of her trance. "I'm sorry, dearie, I didn't see you there." She sneaked another glance at Beth as she took the pile of books from his hands. "It's just… Her father was killed yesterday night. I guess it hasn't yet sunk in; since she arrived she has been going on automatic. Her mother called earlier and explained the situation, she asked us not to mention his death and to leave her alone with her thoughts. Let her process it in peace." She finished signing out the novels. "Here it is, dearie. Stop mulling it over in your head, enjoy the reading and don't forget to bring them back afterwards."

Hadrian left the library, definitely ignoring the woman's advice. What was the man's name again..? Ah, Dr. Johann Fox. He was a lawyer, a very good one at that. Though they had met only once, he had a good impression of the man. Why would anyone kill him? Maybe because of work? He would have to ask Mrs. Fox that night.

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><p>After lunch, Hadrian went back home to pick his work equipment. Then, armed with his violin case and a small basket, he walked towards the same park of the previous day.<p>

There, he sat on the grass, opened the case and picked his violin, not forgetting to set the basket in front of himself, uncovered. Inside, there was a small garden snake he had found almost dead about two weeks ago. He had saved her, and now the reptile sometimes came to work with him in exchange for shelter and food.

Not to mention she had been excited to meet a human that was able to talk to her.

Although it was way too cold for any snake not to be hibernating, she was perfectly conscious due to the wandless heating charms cast on her and the basket. If anyone noticed something wrong, which only happened once in a blue moon, he showed the thermal interior of the object and the warm rocks in which he cast the heating charms, saying he had warmed then up at home.

When he deemed his violin ready, Hadrian began to play. The tune was very similar to those made by the flutes of snake-charmers, and immediately attracted attention. Not too much time later, the snake's head, then her body, appeared and began to dance. The kind of music changed with each song, and the performer played styles that ranged from classical to hip-hop.

The hilarious thing is that the dancer seemed to be trying to reproduce the way of dancing those songs. But what the violinist felt like laughing at was the fact that the snake actually was doing so, she was imitating the dancers on the videos he had shown her a few days ago.

Pity he was the only one who could understand her hisses.

Anyway, they continued their show for some more hours, with the snake making many pauses to rest in her basket. Hadrian made only a few whenever his fingers began to ache. It was quite a few hours later that he saw a familiar mop of dark hair coming in his direction.

Deciding that it was enough, he finished the song he was playing and put away his instrument. Covering the basket, he walked towards the man.

Hadrian greeted him with a smile, then took his hand and began guiding him to his residence. "Come on, I need to leave those things at home, but then we can go to the coffee shop, okay?"

"Do I have a choice?" The man asked in a monotone voice and Hadrian laughed.

"Actually, you don't."

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><p>When they arrived at Phoenix's flat, L looked around. It was in an abandoned building. The magician took him upstairs, clinging at the detective's hand, a violin case and a basket while he ran up three floors worth of stairs.<p>

The World's Three Greatest Detectives wondered how it was possible that the performer wasn't even panting, especially after the fast pace he used the whole way from the park to their current location.

The flat was quite big, and very different from the rest of the building. The walls were painted white and the furniture was all in shades of black, gray and white. The windows were huge, making the ambient well-illuminated and ventilated. As he watched, the white owl from the previous day flew inside and stopped at an iron perch strategically placed in the middle of the living room.

The magician's hand left his.

Phoenix put the instrument's case on the couch and reached inside the basket picking up the garden snake and, without even a glance at L, whose eyes were slightly widened in surprise, accommodated her on a modified aquarium. Then, he turned around just a second after the detective's face turned blank again.

"I would suggest that we solve the case in my flat since we're already here, but I need to speak with Mrs. Fox." The violinist's expression was apologetic.

L let his eyes roam, until they locked with the owl's golden gaze. "You could call her." He said, never breaking eye contact. "As long as there are sweets, the place doesn't matter." Anyone looking at the staring contest would have difficulty in judging who would be the winner, the man or the owl.

Phoenix snorted at the comic scene and the detective's answer. "You're lucky then, I stocked on sweets just yesterday. I'll call her right now, it's a good idea." He paused. "Thank you." He completed, picking up the phone and dialing the woman's number.

She attended on the third ring. "Café Renard?"

"Mrs. Fox? It's Hadrian. Could I ask you a few questions?" A pause. "Yes, I heard about what happened to your husband… Do you know who could have done this? ... You don't? No enemies, someone he sent to prison and was recently released…" Silence. "Okay, I promise you I'll look into this." By this point, the magician had paced from his kitchen to the living room and back twice. "Yes, I'll call you tomorrow. Don't worry." He hesitated for a second. "Okay, understood, bye." He ended the call.

Phoenix then stopped walking, and stared out of the windows, deep in thought.

L had thought that extracting his identity would be difficult, but here was the bird throwing his name around. Would it be because it was only the first name, because it was a false name or because he wasn't actually hiding his true name?

_So many possibilities, _the detective's lips twitched into a semblance of a smile, _such a mystery and he wasn't even trying._

"What happened?" The gray-eyed man's question brought Phoenix, now Hadrian, back to Earth.

"Well, one of my friends was acting strangely today, and I discovered it was because her father had been murdered. I had decided to investigate it on my own, rather than depending on the police. I don't really trust them." The performer said, determination almost shining in his emerald orbs.

"I brought with me the file I promised, but if you prefer, we could work on your case." He paused. "I know how it feels when it happens to someone you know." Somehow, a tiny sliver of sympathy slipped onto the detective's otherwise emotionless voice, surprising the other.

"Thank you." Hadrian said, recuperating from his shock and hugging the detective. A second later, he returned the hug.

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><p>Dr. Johann Fox was quite the lawyer. One of the best, and had worked hard for twenty-three years to guarantee the conviction of criminals and the freedom of innocents.<p>

It was really a pity he was now dead.

He was one of the few people both detectives had ever made an in-depth research in who didn't really have any dirt that came up. Johann's mother was a German immigrant in England, and had had a son with a pilot who died not long after on a crash. They weren't even married.

As such, the woman had to raise him alone, and she did so with great success.

The reason Dr. Fox had been killed wasn't because of any shady business, not even a mere rival. He had been killed by a hit man contracted by a criminal organization he had been building a case against. The problem was that the culprits had dropped from the map as soon as the man was dead, and were probably on the other side of the globe by now, waiting for the news of the murder to cool down before coming back.

Which put both Hadrian and L in a dilemma: the first was no officer of the law, he couldn't go there and arrest them, and the other couldn't do so and risk revealing his true identity.

They could, however, send the evidence to the police anonymously, but neither trusted them very much to catch the criminals without too much bureaucracy and protocols interfering.

Not much later, they had called it a day, choosing to rest a bit before deciding what to do with their information.

L had left the building around 8pm and entered an inconspicuous car driven by his old mentor.

* * *

><p>The following morning, Wammy handed him a new case. L opened the file and his eyes widened as he saw the name of his new… Acquaintance? Companion? Friend..? Whatever, Hadrian's name was printed on the paper.<p>

And he would discover why.

* * *

><p>Antonio Mervi had been a handsome man. He worked as a producer for an entertainment company and did his job very well. There wasn't much you could say against him, not a cent had ever been stolen and his behavior was exemplar.<p>

He had a defect, though; Antonio was a man who enjoyed his liquor way too much. This, and high speeds.

Last year, he killed two children.

He didn't go to prison, but was prohibited from driving for many months.

He was dead now.

Mervi had been killed by the same thing that caused the children's death. In the middle of an important reunion of the company, it had taken a few seconds for someone to notice the quickly changing colors of his face. He began clawing at his throat; gasping for air, but soon gave in. it was as if he had choked on air.

The forensics team identified only three things that were wrong among the scene: in the cup of water the man had been drinking from, there was no water: it was vodka, an alcoholic beverage that looked exactly like water, and more, didn't smell either. Based on the man's historic, it wasn't difficult to guess who had swapped the water with the vodka.

The second thing was also in the cup, but wasn't very likely to have been put there by the late Antonio Mervi. It was potassium cyanide, easily acquired to kill wasps. It also worked effectively as poison, resulting on the described symptoms.

The last thing had, however, baffled the investigators. Inside the man's breast pocket, there was a single miniature soldier made of lead. And its presence made no sense.

After only few hours in the police's hands, the case was quickly forwarded to one of L's aliases, Deneuve. The reason was simple to explain. The toy seemed to be indicating the first of a series of murders. Or, at least, this seemed to be what the number 10 carved on the base pointed towards.

Normally, a case such as this would have a small chance of being taken by L under any of his aliases, especially because it was an isolated death, but one look at the list of witnesses and possible suspects, and he knew he had to take it.

There were thirteen people on the list, the same that were with Antonio Mervi at the time of his death. The objective of this meeting was to study the possibility of starting a TV program that would present the work of street performers for a public bigger than the usual. On the room were Antonio, another producer, a lawyer, and a group of performers they had selected to offer an opportunity to participate in the first episodes, if the program was ever filmed.

One of those was Phoenix.

After seeing the name, there was no doubt on L's mind that he would take the case.

But for now, he had to call the man and see if he was okay.

* * *

><p>Hadrian hadn't attended the phone, and L knew something was very much wrong. He wasted no time in going to the other's flat.<p>

When he arrived there, it didn't take too long for him to hear the hiccups coming from somewhere behind the front door. Knowing he wouldn't be granted entrance voluntarily, L picked the lock without even thinking about privacy.

Inside, he closed the door and his feet quickly carried him in the direction the sobbing was coming from. Scoping the young man in his arms, the detective comforted him as the performer wrapped his arms tightly around his waist and sobbed on his white shirt. They spent a long time in this position, the only sound being silent crying, until Phoenix's tears dried and he could finally speak.

Not even asking if L knew what had happened, Hadrian started talking. He talked about dark times; a childhood no child deserved, a killer out for his blood, a war brewing and so many deaths. He said no names, however, and asked his companion to not research his story, for there was no registry of it at all. He just needed to know it had happened, and believe it.

The detective knew by then that the magician had broken down after seeing the man's death, after having escaped the mess that was the beginning of his life and believing himself away from it all.

The thing was, Death existed everywhere.

After that, Hadrian's eyes began dropping and he burrowed his face on the other's shirt again, nuzzling his stomach and falling asleep.

L was aware there was no escaping anymore from the death grip. Sighing, he carded his hands through the raven black on his lap and resigned himself to a midday nap.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, the violinist woke up to find a pair of dark eyes watching him very closely. Blushing at the proximity, he burrowed his face again on the man's stomach, which was shaking slightly in an effort to contain a laugh that threatened to escape. Feeling vindictive, and wanting to hear the laugh he realized he'd never heard, Phoenix sneaked his hands up the white shirt and began to tickle him.<p>

Who knew his apparently emotionless friend would be ticklish.

After some time of wrestling, however, Hadrian was pinned on the bed by his wrists, while his hips were held down by the man sat on them. He was panting hard, face red with exertion and a bit of embarrassment for his position.

The phone rang just a second later.

Freeing the performer, L stood up and took the call. It was Wammy, asking where he was.

Looking at his… Friend, the detective extended a hand. After replying to his mentor he would be calling later and not to worry, he asked Hadrian as he ended the call:

"What do you know about Deneuve?"

* * *

><p>Hours later, after having returned to his hotel room, L thought about the events of that morning. So much had happened; it would be overwhelming if he wasn't a genius.<p>

First of all, his alias. He shouldn't have revealed one of his identities. Even if it wasn't _the most important _one, it was still dangerous, since Deneuve was considered one of the World's Three Greatest Detectives, along with two of his other aliases, Eraldo Coil and L.

What he found interesting, however, was his friend's reaction. Phoenix's eyes almost _twinkled_ like a madman's and he opened a Cheshire cat smile. It was quite a disturbing image, really.

_"I knew you were a detective. Wouldn't have helped me in my hobby if you weren't." He had hummed thoughtfully. "I just remembered, you haven't told me your name before today. Deneuve is probably an alias. What can I call you? I go by Hadrian Black, or Phoenix. I prefer not using my original name, brings back bad memories."_

_"Ryuuzaki." L had said. And that was it. They didn't discuss names anymore after that._

Something that morning had made the detective very worried, though. Judging by Phoenix's reaction and the story he had told him, his past was very dark. The death would have affected anyone, but this was the last straw for the man.

L had been able to help him somewhat, however. After the catnap he took Hadrian was more or less back to normal. And that was an opportunity he couldn't let pass. Since the magician was involved on the case, and knew of his work as a detective, he could ask the man to work with him on this murder, and have his little bird under his watch at all times.

… Which led him to an event that made L quite antsy, and he wasn't someone who was easily affected.

It seemed that, in a span of a bit less than two days, Hadrian had begun to get attached to him. And the insomniac wasn't faring much better.

Shaking his head in a futile attempt of taking that line of thought from his mind, L opened a file in his computer.

His aliases were more numerous than the number of people living in London, which meant only one thing: there was always work to be done, no matter how much his mind seemed to want to drown itself in thoughts about Phoenix.

As the detective began reading through the case he would be solving under the name Sasha Pavlov, he wondered if he could make the time pass faster, for Wammy would be bringing Hadrian in just a few hours so that they could work on Antonio Mervi's case.

* * *

><p>That night and a good part of the following day were spent without much progress on their part. L wanted to continue working, but Hadrian interrupted him saying he had something to show the detective.<p>

As the performer guided his friend once again by the hand to the kitchen, Wammy focused the camera on that room. There was _no way _he'd miss seeing L's reaction.

And what a reaction it was. His eyes widened and sparked like a child's in Christmas, and his chin had fallen in surprise and disbelief.

He was drooling too, not that L would admit it later.

In true Christmas spirit, since it was the 24th of December after all, Phoenix had sculpted a life-sized Christmas tree, making it two meters of pine-shaped white sugar with ginger bread and real candy decorations. The gifts under the tree were wrapped in regular paper, however, which almost made L pout.

Almost, for in that moment Hadrian kissed his cheek and muttered a "Merry Christmas."

The detective ducked his head down to hide a blush, making the magician laugh, and kiss him again.

* * *

><p>AN: Well, there it is. I did promise I'd update on Monday, didn't I?

Anyway, thank you guys for reading. I get this stupid smile on my face every time I see a new review.

From here on, I'll be making na effort to make the chapters longer, this one has around 3k words.

Besides that, there will be a murder (or attempt of) per chapter. Good luck trying to find the killer.

...

Another thing, did I write Deneuve right? I wasn't sure if it was written this way.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor Death Note.

Also, I'm adding on the disclaimer that "And then there were none" isn't mine, it's Agatha Christie's.

(Don't worry if you haven't read the book, I'm only using it as guideline for the murders. Also, there'll be some spoilers for it, since parts of the plot will be narrated. I don't know yet if the name of the assassin will be revealed, but I'll warn you guys if it is. The part in italics between quote marks was extracted from the book "And then there were none".)

Pairing: HP/L

* * *

><p><em>"Nine Little Soldier Boys sat up very late;<em>

_One overslept himself and then there were eight."_

* * *

><p>Two days later, when L and Phoenix were examining once again the witnessing statements and forensics reports of the case, searching for any clue that might point them towards the killer, the phone rang.<p>

Picking it up with his strange grip, the detective listened intently as he stirred his tea with a lollypop. It seemed the murderer had struck again.

This time, it was a woman. A nurse that worked at a hospital near their location, in the elder's wing. She was responsible for feeding, dressing, changing the IV and helping the doctor in any situation that might arise. She also had a historic of having the patients that were on the verge of death dying suddenly, for reasons different than what was supposed to kill them.

Only that year, six had already died by her hands, seemingly without anyone noticing anything strange. Not even on her last victim, an old lady with brain cancer who died from dehydration.

Anyway, the nurse, Victoria Williams, died on a very singular way. She had taken a quick nap in one of the hospital's beds, having spent more than a day awake, but never woke up. An analysis of the crime scene revealed that the cup of soda on the side of the bed contained potassium cyanide dissolved in the liquid. She also had a soldier hidden inside her wallet. On its feet, the number nine seemed to mock them.

After those two deaths, the media finally caught up with what was happening. They called it by many names, such as the mortal chalice's case or the soldiers' case. However, no matter the name, the lack of evidence was nevertheless driving the investigators nuts.

The only connections they could identify between the victims were their criminal tendencies and the things they had gotten away with in the past. The elements in common between both deaths were the poison, that was easily acquired, the method of death, by dissolving potassium cyanide on the beverage, and the soldiers, that were two pieces of a large lot made on the end of the 30s, and had the numbers carved later on them.

Hadrian had the strangest feeling when he first saw all this information, almost like… déjà vu.

* * *

><p>New Year finally arrived. Having been working the whole afternoon at the streets, at night fall he was completely and utterly exhausted, and wanted to do nothing more than curl up next to Ryuuzaki and fall asleep while the other worked all night long on his cases.<p>

It wasn't to be, however.

Sophia had called his phone when he had just arrived in the hotel his friend had holed up in this time, and asked where in hell he was. Hadrian answered he was going to bed, and in half a dozen words she completely destroyed his plans for the next hours. Apparently, she wanted to commemorate the change of year.

Phoenix wanted to strangle her.

Although, after some threats, she 'convinced' him to come and participate. Which brought him to his current situation, where he was in a New Year's Eve party full of college students, all from Sophia Marvelin's class, plus a group of party crashers.

Her brother gave him a sympathizing pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry; you'll probably survive it without much damage." He said, and walked away.

_How assuring, _Hadrian thought sarcastically.

* * *

><p>He ended up isolated on the couch that had been pulled to a corner of Sophia's living room, talking with Beth Fox.<p>

She looked much better than the last time he saw her, although he could see it was all a façade. She hadn't yet gotten over her father's death, but there was something more to it. "What happened?" he asked.

She didn't even try to hide it. "You never overlook anything, do you, Hadrian?" she murmured, mask falling, sniffing softly. "Remember those migraines I've always had? Well, I talked about then to the psychologist mother asked me to see, and he suggested me to go to the hospital and see if it isn't anything serious. I went there a few days ago, and now I'm waiting for the results."

Hadrian hugged her, then, and muttered on her ear. "Come on, it's probably nothing, there's no need to worry about that." He tucked her hair behind her ear. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I don't." She watched the party, silently. "Did you read the books you took from the library?"

"I just finished the A.B.C. Murders, but I am not sure if I'll have much time to read the rest. Those past weeks have been hectic." He said, looking around. "Hey, Beth, come on, let's get out of here. Sophia's not watching."

The magician then led the library volunteer out of the flat and towards the elevator. Once inside, he asked "Remember that I offered to look into your father's death?"

"Yes?" She answered, hesitantly.

"A friend and I, we found something." He said as he left the elevator and walked out of the building. "It seems that the group Dr. Fox was building a case against had hired a hit man to deal with him. They're in the hiding by now, though, and since we're not officers, we cannot send a restraint order." He lowered his eyes, seemingly fascinated with the pavement. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She said. "I take it you didn't want to take it to the police."

"I don't really trust them." Hadrian looked at her. "But he's your father. I'll give you later our notes on the case and you decide what to do with them. But, for now, no reason for mopping. Can you promise me that?"

"Okay." She agreed, opening a watery smile.

"Awesome." He grinned.

Beth left not long afterwards, claiming she was tired. He had immediately offered to walk her home, but the library volunteer refused, saying she came with her car. The performer bid her goodbye, then, and stayed right in front of the building trying to decide if he should go back to the party or go home.

"Hadrian?" A voice behind him called.

"Yes?" He answered, turning his head to see who had spoken.

"I need to talk to you. I need your help." The man said, and Hadrian identified him as Sophia's brother, Lucian.

"Come with me, then. I was trying to decide if I should enter or go home, we can go to Renard and talk there."

* * *

><p>Fifteen minutes later the pair could be found at Café Renard already sipping their drinks and talking.<p>

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Hadrian asked, warming his cold hands on the hot surface of his mug.

"It's my fiancé, Vic, do you remember her? I don't know if you have met, but I talked about her many times." He said, and the magician noticed his hands were slightly shaky.

"Yes. What about her?"

"She was murdered, six days ago, by the Soldier Killer." He whispered, looking around warily to prevent any eavesdroppers.

"Crap, I can't believe I hadn't noticed before, I knew I had heard her name before!" he banged his head on the coffee shop's table. "Her name's Victoria Williams, right?"

"Yes, and that's why I need your help. I know you solve cases for a hobby, and I wanted you to look into this one. Could you do it? I don't really trust the justice system to find the killer and deal with him accordingly." Lucian implored, and his eyes shone with hidden tears.

"I'll see what I can do, Luc, but it isn't the police who's investigating this case. It is a private investigator, Daneuf or something like this, wasn't it?" Mentally, Hadrian cringed with the atrocity he did with his friend's pseudonym. But he couldn't hint Lucian towards his association with the detective and this case, so he had to do it.

"It's Deneuve, actually." The doctor corrected. "Anyway, I don't trust him or her either. Could you do it for me, please? As a favor to an old friend?" He begged.

"Calling yourself old, huh? Well, I make no promises, but I'll see what I can do."

* * *

><p>After Dr. Lucian Marvelin left, Hadrian Black was the only costumer left in Café Renard. As such, it was the perfect opportunity for the owner, Mrs. Fox, to come talk to him.<p>

"So, Bethany told me that you were looking into my husband's murder, is it true?" The older woman asked, taking the place where the doctor was sitting.

"Yes, I am. In fact, I don't know if she has already told you, but a friend and I, we have identified the group who ordered his death."

"And why haven't the police been alerted about it?" Mrs. Fox asked.

"We couldn't, the police would ignore us if we did so. Or worse, they would dig into our lives instead of going after the culprits. I'm sorry, Mrs. Fox."

"Don't worry, not your fault." She paused. "Could you give me your notes on the case? I'll forward then to the police, and keep your name out of this."

"I guess this is a good idea." He said, already digging inside his bag for the paste. "Here it is." He announced, picking it up. "Good luck, Mrs. Fox. I hope the justice system will be able to help you." And, with that statement, Hadrian left.

"I hope that too." Murmured the old woman, now alone in the coffee shop.

* * *

><p>Finally, at early dawn, Hadrian Black arrived at the hotel Ryuuzaki (A.K.A. Deneuve) was in.<p>

Without even thinking of changing clothes, the performer fell face-down on a free bed and made no effort to move afterwards.

Not even a minute later, the sound of bare feet against carpet could be heard from outside the room. He felt more than heard, however, the bed dipping when the detective climbed onto it; and let out a groan when he felt hesitant and cold digits massaging his sore back.

It was so good, Hadrian almost fell asleep. Until his friend started talking.

"I'll have to absent myself for a few days." Ryuuzaki said.

Without even bothering to lift his head from the pillow, he asked. "How long?"

"Four days, three if I'm lucky."

"Where?"

"Germany."

"You'd better come back intact, or I'm going to gut you, understood?"

"Crystal."

"Good."

And that resumed their discussion for that dawn. Not long after, the magician was asleep, watched by the eyes of the World's Three Greatest Detectives.

* * *

><p><em>The following day…<em>

Phoenix was the best thing that happened to the world ever since strawberry shortcake's invention, L decided. Hedwig, as he learnt was the owl's name, too.

The reason for such an enthusiastic and heated declaration was the basket full of sweets and, guess what, strawberry shortcake, he had received that morning. There was a sugar sculpture inside as well, though L couldn't for his life imagine how it was possible that the thing hadn't broken on the way to his hotel room.

It had been delivered by the white owl, and what a surprise it had been. The detective had had to leave to Germany for a few days to conclude a case he had been working on under the name of Alex Slusser, which ended up resulting on a three-day long separation between him and Hadrian. The man, however, almost as if he knew that the detective was _slightly_ missing him and the mouth-watering sweets he made, sent a basket full of them.

If L wasn't in the other side of the globe, nor so disturbed by the idea of exchanging saliva with someone, he would have kissed Phoenix.

Instead, the detective sent the other something he had discovered a few years back, and was sure his fellow sweet addicted probably had never heard about: Apfelpfannkuchen, a German recipe of pancakes with spicy apple and cinnamon filling.

The only alarming thing about this story, however, was the way the basket had arrived. Besides Wammy, Hadrian was the only one who knew his location, but it was only the country's name. How had he managed to send his owl, from the U.K. to Germany, without even an address?

The letter hidden among the diabetes-inducing desserts, written with clear intention of driving him nuts, declared that a magician never revealed his secrets.

L wondered if he could tickle the answer out of Phoenix.

Probably not.

* * *

><p>While Ryuuzaki was away, Hadrian had decided to finally start reading one of the books he had rented but didn't have time to read.<p>

Looking between "And Then There Were None" and "Murder in Mesopotamia", he opted for the first. In the beginning the book showed, from many points of view, most of the protagonists traveling towards a meeting point in Devon, where they would, then, take a boat and go to a private island as a group. The reasons they went there were many: some were invited and a few were hired, by a person or couple they remembered vaguely or had never met.

When they arrived, there were a butler and a cook waiting for them and, for some time, they expected their hosts/hirers to arrive.

They all noticed the nursery rhyme framed and hang up the mantelpiece in each room, but disregarded it, as they did with the ten figurines displayed on the living room's table.

One night after dinner, in the same room, the group was once again reunited. The butler, Mr. Rodger, left the room and, according to his hirer's instruction, played a disc in the gramophone.

Not a second later, an ominous and accusatory voice thundered across the room.

_"Ladies and Gentlemen! Silence, please!_

_You are charged with the following indictments:_

_Edward George Armstrong, that you did upon the 14th day of March, 1925, cause the death of Louisa Mary Clees._

_Emily Caroline Brent, that upon the 5th of November, 1931, you were responsible for the death of Beatrice Taylor._

_William Henry Blore, that you brought about the death of James Stephen Landor on October 10th, 1928._

_Vera Elizabeth Claythorne, that on the 11th day of August, 1935, you killed Cyril Ogilvie Hamilton._

_Philip Lombard, that upon a date in February, 1932, you were guilty of the death of twenty-one men, members of an East African tribe._

_John Gordon Macarthur, that on the 4th of January, 1917, you deliberately sent your wife's lover, Arthur Richmond, to his death._

_Anthony James Marston, that upon the 14th day of November last, you were guilty of the murder of John and Lucy Combes._

_Thomas Rogers and Ethel Rogers, that on the 6th of May, 1929, you brought about the death of Jennifer Brady._

_Lawrence John Wargrave, that upon the 10th day of June, 1930, you were guilty of the murder of Edward Seton._

_Prisoners at the bar, have you anything to say in your defense?"_

This statement resulted on each person of the group examining their peers, trying to decide if it was the truth or not. Many denied, some believed being innocent.

It wasn't much later when the first person died.

* * *

><p>Hadrian would have continued reading, but Hedwig arrived on that same moment with Deneuve's answer. Actually, it was only a few written words that translated to normal speech would consist of a simple thank you and an almost unnoticeable "I miss you". It didn't bother Phoenix, however. The pastry that accompanied the note said more than a thousand words.<p>

It was also a challenge to see if he could beat Apfelpfannkuchen.

The magician's lips drew into a devious smile.

Challenge accepted.

* * *

><p>Detective Hardwick was the name of the officer who took up the case of Dr. Johann Fox's murder.<p>

He had researched every tiny little piece of information he managed to find, and in no time had pinpointed the culprits. The only problem was that they had scattered and holed up somewhere in Australia, Russia and/or South America. He couldn't do much to apprehend them there, since it was a single death, he had to wait until they found their way back to England.

And _that, _according to his observations, would take a fairly longtime.

As such, he decided to dig into the victim's data in search for anything that could speed up the process, as Dr. Fox was a lawyer building a case against them.

Daniel Hardwick didn't find what he wanted, but he did find a few other pieces of information that were quite intriguing. His wife's name somehow appeared on an old case file of an important businessman's death in the 70s, and the birth records of his daughter were somewhat messed up.

He yawned. It was late, 9pm already. Time to go back home. He would return to this case the following day.

Had the detective left five minutes later, he would have read on that night the e-mail containing the solved case sent to him by Mrs. Fox.

It wasn't to be, however.

* * *

><p>L arrived back in London the following morning, on the 5th of January, and went directly to Hadrian's flat.<p>

He entered with the spare key he had been given and immediately saw a note for himself on the kitchen counter. The detective picked it up, humming thoughtfully. Apparently, Phoenix had gone out earlier that day, although it wasn't because of work.

He snatched his mobile phone from one of his jeans' pockets and dialed Wammy.

"I'm already here, Ryuuzaki." The older man said, neither of them bothering with pleasantries.

With that, the detective closed his phone, and shuffled soundlessly as he left the building. He entered the discreet car waiting for him just as silently.

"Where to?" His caretaker asked.

"The LEAP Parkour Park." He said, already serving himself with the tea and cake available on the car. No more words were said.

The frequenters of the park, on that morning, came across a singular view: there was a man (or was it a teenager?) perched on one of the walls, dressed in baggy blue jeans and a loose long-sleeved white shirt, no shoes, watching with wide eyes the practitioners of le parkour while eating popcorn.

Well, actually, it had once been popcorn. Now it was something really similar to it covered with sweetened condensed milk and chocolate sprinkles. There wasn't a single grain of salt in it.

Never mind that he was supposed to be in the area specific for spectators, instead of there with them all.

Anyway, the detective wasn't actually watching all the practitioners, but one in particular. Hadrian was there, after all, having decided to spend some of his pent up energy, as he believed Deneuve would only be arriving at night.

As he watched his friend, L wondered if he would be willing to learn capoeira. The bird would make a worthy opponent for him to fight, he knew. It had been way too long since he had someone to go against him.

A few hours later, Hadrian finally stopped and bid goodbye to his peers. As he left, he saw Ryuuzaki sat on top of one of the walls used for practicing, watching him. Their eyes met, and neither broke eye contact as Phoenix walked in his direction. As he stopped in front of the other, neither said anything.

"For how long were you here?" The magician finally broke the silence.

"Two."

"Hours? You should have called me. There was no need to wait for so long."

"I wanted to."

"Well, could you accompany me back home then? I've something there for you."

"I will." Ryuuzaki agreed."I have someone waiting to take us to your flat."

"Are you sure? We could just take the bus."

"There is no need for that." He said, and the discussion ended there.

* * *

><p>When they arrived at Hadrian's flat the magician immediately entered the bathroom saying he needed a shower as soon as possible and telling the detective to get whatever he wanted from the refrigerator.<p>

As such, it was with the comic image of Ryuuzaki cutting a thin slice of cake, putting it back where he found it, and taking the rest to eat, that Hadrian came across when he left the bathroom. He shrugged, already used to his friend's unusual habits, and walked past him as he started preparing the sweet he had planned on doing.

The phone rang an hour later, when Phoenix had his hands coated with butter and was on the last small chocolate ball he had to mold.

"Could you get it for me, Ryuuzaki? My hands are already occupied." He said, finishing the sweet.

Without a word, Deneuve extended his hand and picked the phone up in his characteristic two-finger grip. He listened to the speaker and occasionally gave monosyllabic answers, all the while munching on a bite of his cake. He soon ended the call.

"So?" Asked Hadrian as he placed a trail full of the small sweets – Brigadeiros– In front of the detective.

"It seems our killer murdered yet another soldier."

"Who?"

* * *

><p>AN: Well, cupcakes (don't ask me where this came from), that concludes chapter 5.

As promised, the title has changed a bit, and I've also uploaded a cover. The photo is mine, though I haven't made the lead soldier.

- I would love if you guys could do me a favor: Could you send me names of pastries that are common in your countries? I've used one that I found in internet and another that is common here in Brazil, but sometimes it is difficult to find the 'right' one. Just please, avoid candy names. I prefer something that can be homemade, okay?

( I suggest you guys to look up Apfelpfannkuchen and brigadeiro, the first looks awesome and the later is divine, easy to do too :)

And last but not least, thank you people for the reviews. You guys are awesome.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, Harry Potter nor And Then There Were None.

Pairing: HP/L

Like in the previous chapter, the text in italics between quote marks was extracted from 'And then There Were None'.

* * *

><p><em>"Eight Little Soldier Boys traveling in Devon;<em>

_One said he'd stay there and then there were seven."_

* * *

><p>"I've insisted so much, I can't believe it actually happened!" She said as she started yet another crying fit.<p>

Hadrian and Sophia were right at her side, consoling Beth as she cried her heart out. Mrs. Fox had been killed earlier that day, leaving the college student Bethany Fox an orphan. The curious thing – as it had been stated by both the dead woman before her death and now was screamed by her daughter – was that she had been asked to leave by Beth to escape both her husband's murderers, in case they ever wanted to come back to England and finish their job, and the soldier killer.

Looks like the daughter was right, after all.

Mrs. Isabel T. Fox wasn't murdered, however, the same way the previous two victims were. Somehow, part of the marquise fell just as the elder woman left the coffee shop at lunchtime, and she was crushed. The only elements in common between this case and the previous ones were the lead soldier and the morally dubious past of the victim.

In this incident, the late Mrs. Fox's name had been involved in a case thirty years before. She had been working, then, as a secretary at an important businessman's office. The man had been killed at his working place with a shot to the head. The reason his murderer had been able to enter the office without detection was because the whole floor had been suspiciously empty at the time.

This all happened during the lunch break, when conveniently all the staff was absent.

Had Ryuuzaki been a less dignified being, he would bang his head on his desk. Hadrian, however, was not above doing so. How in hell had the previous investigators overlooked _this_?

Anyway, Mrs. Fox's death would probably have been classified as an accident, had it not been the soldier. Once again, it was hidden inside a pocket, with a mocking eight carved on its feet.

The million-dollar question, though, was: why had the killer's _modus operandi _changed?

* * *

><p>They had delayed examining the minutiae of the case long enough, L decided. It was time to rectify this.<p>

Things were, sadly, easier said than done.

He was looking at the witnessing statements from the first murder, Antonio Mervi's. Not much could be extracted from them, however, something that bored the detective to no end. Although he knew very well the importance of watching each one, the lack of information made him feel like he was losing precious time.

The only upside about all this situation was that the TV program's project was shot down before it even left the meeting hall. Hadrian agreed with him. He had only been there because of Sophia, who wished to participate but couldn't attend the first meeting.

Speaking of Phoenix, he was sat on his left looking at his computer screen, where the relatives of Victoria Williams' victims were listed. The killer's name could be there, for all they knew.

Sighing on relief when the last video ended, L accessed Mervi's computer, easily passing through any passwords blocking his way. Once inside, he skimmed over the man's agenda. He paused in a date that was three days away. He had a check-up scheduled at 5pm – and his doctor was none other than Lucian Marvelin.

"Ryuuzaki?" Hadrian called, catching his attention.

"Yes?"

"Look at this." He pointed to something in his screen.

L's eyes fixed in the screen. It showed the list of Williams' still alive patients, but a name in particular stood out – Bethany Fox.

Apparently, the nurse had accompanied Beth's doctor during her exam. The results of it took no time to access: cancer.

Hadrian couldn't believe it. Hadn't the girl suffered enough? She had just lost her parents, and now that? The worst thing was that she didn't know it yet.

The detective's mind, however, was in a completely different line of thought. Two connections, two. Were there anymore? Looks like this killer wasn't so random while choosing his or her victims, after all.

* * *

><p>Bethany 'Beth' Fox left the hospital feeling desolated. Cancer. This was the result of the exam she had done only a few days ago. Brain cancer, to be more specific.<p>

Her hands shook. She was going to die, she knew. Despite whatever bullshit the doctor said about survival chances, she simply _knew_ was going to die.

And wasn't it ironic? Just a few months previously, she had been a naïve girl starting her studies in law. She wanted to work at the courts, just like her father did.

Her father. Oh my. Johann had died by the hand of a hit man. Her mother followed him soon after, by the hands of the Soldier Killer. The first was killed for upholding the law, Justice above everything, the latter because of having escaped this very same Justice thirty years before. And now was her time. Taken from life neither by her belief in Justice nor by the rectification of its failure, but by sickness. Cancer. Who would have thought?

She was seventeen. Only seventeen.

Her doctor wanted to treat her, operations, chemotherapy, whatever. She wouldn't do it. She didn't have the money or the will. She had the law she loved and studied, and an inherited coffee shop.

Pathetic.

Soon, not even her volunteer work at the library would be hers. Not only she wouldn't have the time, but the space would be undergoing renovation. She had, however, a few other things: somewhere to live, the shop to work on, friends that were the only people she now had for support, and something else that she hated: Why, oh why, did she have to go to the psychologist?

It was a decision made by a friend of her father. She would be able to lead a mostly independent life if she just went to the blasted doctor (And he could do it, the friend was her Godfather and a judge. He certainly could.). She'd go, if only for achieving some semblance of freedom.

She sighed. No use in crying over spilt milk.

Beth decided to go through her mother's things. It had been delayed enough, and it might help taking her mind out of recent events. Yes, it might.

* * *

><p>Sophia Marvelin was scared. Scratch that, she was terrified.<p>

It seemed as though all the people around her were dying. Every single one, one at a time. First, it was Dr. Fox. He was one of her brother's clients, at first, and then became a kind-of acquaintance when she met his daughter through Hadrian. Then, the following death was the first of this new serial killer. Antonio Mervi, another of Lucian's patients and the man who had approached her weeks ago with this TV program project. She had agreed, of course. They had a fling not much later. And then he died.

Well, at least the sex had been good while it lasted. Pity he was murdered so soon. She had been planning on getting married to him, and _then _kill the man.

The money she'd get would be nothing to scoff at, after all.

Anyway, the next murder was that of Victoria Williams. Her good-for-nothing future sister-in-law. The nurse had somehow managed to ensnare her brother, the bitch. Sophia didn't shed a tear when she heard about her death. The woman was a gold-digger; she could detect those better than a bloodhound could a red herring. Victoria was dating Lucian just because he was a successful doctor, nothing else.

The last murder was Mrs. Fox's. Sophia liked her. The woman was kind, in a motherly way. She would have loved to have a mother like that as she grew up.

Truthfully, she was jealous of Bethany.

One of her heels was caught in a tiny gap on the floor and she almost fell down. She shook her head. Better stop this habit of walking on the street with her head on the clouds, lest she have an accident. Her high heels began clicking once more as she resumed walking. Sophia was going to Lucian's workplace to see how he was coping with Williams' death.

Truth to be told, Sophia was actually happy that this death had been so sudden. Her brother was likely heartbroken, but now she had an opportunity to set him up with someone else. A girl who would suit him… No, not that. She didn't trust a woman with Lucian. Maybe… A boy? Yes, it would be perfect. She would just need to convince her brother that he was bisexual, or that no female would ever suit him at all. Sophia just needed to find the right one…

Hadrian. _He was the one, _she thought as she entered the hospital with a cunning and discreet smile drawn on her lips. He was the perfect choice.

She barely even thought about her previous fears by the time she reached the elevator, as they were now buried under layers of plans and machinations.

* * *

><p>Lucian opened his door to let his sister in.<p>

There was a bit of moisture still in his eyes, but they weren't tears. Victoria had just been a toy, he reasoned with himself.

_Just a toy. No tears, no tears._

_Just a pretty face._

Sophia was looking at him with pity on her eyes and seemed to want to approach and comfort him. He wouldn't let her, however. There was a spark on her gaze that made in unease.

She was plotting something, he just knew it.

Lucian turned his back to her, going to sit behind his desk. He ignored his sister as she sat down in front of him. He focused solely in his computer's screen that displayed a list of his regular's names. Four names had been recently excluded from it, for they were now dead.

The first was Margarett Taylor. No surprise there, really. She was already very old; it was only a matter of time. She didn't even have a family anymore, save for Lind, her grandson.

The second was Johann Fox. Father of Beth, whom he first met when she tagged along with her father when he came for a check-up two years previously.

The third was Antonio Mervi. First victim of the Soldier Killer, the person who lately has been haunting his nightmares. Lucian knew all of his three victims, after all. Who was to say he wasn't the next?

The last was actually the first to die of this small list of deaths. Rose Duprée had died on September. She had been 36 years old, then. Mme. Duprée had called him on the 21st, late at night, saying that she had entered in labor and was coming to the hospital.

Dr. Marvelin had been in his first break in many hours, at a nightclub his sister had managed to convince him to go. He was a bit tipsy, sure, but knowing his patient wouldn't do it with anyone else, he went to the hospital as quick as he could.

It began as a normal delivery, but ended in a nightmare. Mme. Duprée had complications and he had to make a cesarean section. He screwed it up.

Lucian lost both mother and baby.

He hadn't excluded her name from the list before because he couldn't. He only managed it this time because Victoria's death was at the front of his mind, not Rose's.

They had met during that very same procedure, and it was the nurse who supported him as he recovered from his patient's death caused by his mistake.

And now she was dead.

He didn't notice his sister's comforting hand on his shoulder as he finally broke down.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Hadrian,<em>

_I hope this letter finds you well. It's been two days since our last talk, but I send you this in search for advice._

_My daughter Bethany came to me recently, asking me to leave the country and whatnot. She said it was the better option, to both be in a new ambient, away from the ghost of my husband, and to escape the dangers that have haunted London those days, namely my husband's murderers and the Soldier Killer. Many times we have argued over it, but she doesn't seem to understand my need of staying._

_I'm tired, Hadrian. I'm close to sixty and already it feels like a hundred. Sometimes I think the reason I am so sure Johann's spirit is around, is because I'll follow him soon. I don't know. But it hurts – a lot._

_I've forwarded the file you sent me to the police. Maybe they'll take their noses out of their damned protocols and act for once._

_I end this letter here, and ask you not to reply. I might never have the opportunity to read your answer._

_Love,_

_Isabel T. Fox._

* * *

><p>Mrs. Fox letter arrived two days after her death. Hadrian read it, trying not to cry. He had always known she was a perceptive person, but to predict her own death was at the very least unexpected.<p>

The paper was taken in as evidence in no time, as was her diary, retrieved from her house. Last time Hadrian saw Ryuuzaki; he was surrounded by evidence and wouldn't be coming out so soon.

The magician had then decided to escape for some time, he needed fresh air, a different ambient to clear his mind. As such, he went and holed himself up at the library.

He was curled up on a brown leather couch buried in his current reading, "And Then There Were None". Phoenix didn't even look up when he heard the heels of one of the librarians clicking on the floor as she walked towards him.

"Hadrian? Hadrian Black?"

"Yes?" he said, looking at her. It was the same volunteer that had told him of Dr. Fox's death.

"Dearie, I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I wasn't able to tell you before, as you weren't here recently." She cleared her throat. "The library will be closed from tomorrow until the end of the month for renovations."

"It's no hassle, although I need to know if I can return the books I've rented afterwards. I haven't finished reading this one and there's two others back home."

"Sure you can, dearie. What book are you reading?" She inquired and he lifted the cover for her to see. "Oh, that one. In which part are you?"

His eyes examined her body language. There was something… shifty going on right then. "Gen. Macarthur just died."

Now it was her gaze that swept over his face. Searching for something… "So you are already there… Did you notice?"

"Notice what?"

"The way the characters die… It is very similar to the victims' of the Soldier Killer." She looked around, checking for eavesdroppers. "Antonio Mervi died in a way very similar to Tony Marston, as did Victoria Williams with Mrs. Rogers and Mrs. Fox with Gen. Macarthur… Well, not so similar, but it is in accordance to the poem. Take a look!" She said, pointing to the book.

Now wide-eyed, the raven started turning the pages as fast as possible. There.

_"Ten Little Soldier Boys went out to dine;_

_One choked his little self and then there were nine._

_Nine Little Soldier Boys sat up very late;_

_One overslept himself and then there were eight._

_Eight Little Soldier Boys traveling in Devon;_

_One said he'd stay there and then there were seven._

_Seven Little Soldier Boys chopping up sticks;_

_One chopped himself in halves and then there were six._

_Six Little Soldier Boys playing with a hive;_

_A bumblebee stung one and then there were five._

_Five Little Soldier Boys going in for law;_

_One got into Chancery and then there were four._

_Four Little Soldier Boys going out to sea;_

_A red herring swallowed one and then there were three._

_Three Little Soldier Boys walking in the zoo;_

_A big bear hugged one and then there were two._

_Two Little Soldier Boys sitting in the sun;_

_One got frizzled up and then there was one._

_One Little Soldier Boy left all alone;_

_He went and hanged himself,_

_And then there were none."_

It was true. Holy crap.

He quickly blanked his expression as he looked up. "How did you get the information necessary to reach this conclusion?" He inquired, suspiciously.

The woman snorted. "I'm not stupid. I began to suspect it by the second death, because of the soldiers. Thereupon, I started researching the past of the victims, anyone with a computer and internet access could. The first death was compatible. Same crime, same method of death, same soldier. The difference was that he wasn't in an isolated island and the soldiers are made of lead instead of china, having been also discovered in the victims' body instead of disappearing one by one from their place on the table of the living room after each death. Victoria died on her sleep, poisoned, the same way Mrs. Rogers did, plus, their crimes are similar; they deliberately let the people/person they were caring for die. Mrs. Fox's crime, though, isn't remotely similar to Gen. Macarthur's. The similarity this time lies in their expectation for death, and it matched the poem. Neither wanted to leave, be it London or the island." She paused. "Besides, I only noticed this connection because it is my favorite book."

Hadrian's mind was running a mile a second. Crap. Holy crap. Let's change curse words:

Shit.

He barely opened his mouth to give an adequate answer (read: something that isn't a curse word) for that when his name was called from behind them. "Hadrian?"

He turned around, his book closing swiftly on his hands, title hidden. Coming his way were the Marvelin siblings.

"Soph, Luc." He acknowledged them with a nod.

The violinist smiled and asked. "Have you seen Beth? I can't seem to find her."

"I'm here." A muffled voice came from the crime novels' shelf.

"Beth." The female whined. "When will you get tired from that kind of books? You are always there."

"And yet, you never manage to find me." She teased with a grin. "Hey, Tracy, where is the "A Study in Scarlet", by Sir A. C. Doyle? The man I'm attending wants to rent it."

"I'm sorry," Said the older volunteer Hadrian had been speaking with. "That one disappeared a few weeks ago. I believe it was stolen, but I'm not sure."

"No problem, I'll recommend him another, he won't mind." She said and walked away.

"Look at this, you see? She forgot about us completely!" Said Sophia.

"I don't think it was on purpose." Said Lucian. "Especially if the gentleman she's attending is who I think it is. I always thought she was crushing on Ruggles."

"Farley Ruggles? That guy that works at the cinema? Eww, you can only be kidding. He's a pervert with an annoying voice. And he stinks. Plus, Beth not even looks in his direction, except that time he tried to pinch her butt and she slapped him with her book. Remember that? I almost died by laughing so much."

"I do, your face was purple with lack of air. And I was just kidding. I saw the man when he entered; it wasn't anyone we knew."

Hadrian's phone rang exactly on that moment. Reading the text message Ryuuzaki sent him, he stood up. "Well guys, _and ladies_," He completed when Sophia glared at him. "I have to go; my appointment with my dentist is in half an hour. Goodbye." After creating an excuse on the spot, he left as quickly as he could.

There was an officer poking on their case.

* * *

><p>Detective Hardwick was definitely snooping on the Soldier Killer's case. At first, he had found it interesting but out of his league, that is, until the little shit had to go and <em>kill <em>the wife of Dr. Fox, thus completely ripping to shreds his plans of questioning her on how in hell she had managed to solve the case.

Well, actually, he suspects it to have been solved by a third-party, whose name he had planned on extracting from her. Not that he could do it now.

The only upside in all this is that he now had a giant list of crimes to convict Dr. Fox's murderers with (and he had done an in-depth research on each of them, just to be sure) and give a good reason for them to be arrested even outside of Britain, where it all happened. Now, he just had to convince his chief to send the arrest order, which wasn't going to be easy.

Besides that, Daniel Hardwick wanted to have a chat with the victim's daughter's, Bethany Fox's, psychologist; to see if he had anything else that could be added to his case.

He didn't really believe the man would give him anything he didn't know, but it was worth a try.

* * *

><p>AN: Should I say that, after reading your reviews and looking up your suggestions, I felt like doing all of them for Christmas? Pity my mother forced me to choose one. She's evil.

Anyway, this chapter doesn't have any of them because it was already mostly written when I uploaded chapter 5. however, the next one has two of them, I think.

- I'd like to thank you L. for the heads up. I tend to do that every time I write in English, my mother tongue uses only one preposition where English uses in, on and at, so I end up mixing them up. For the stricken, though, I have no excuse. I didn't notice it when I was proof-reading.

I've revised the previous chapters, as well as this one. No need to go back and read it again, those were only grammar corrections. I probably missed a few, if anyone notices, please do warn me, okay? Also, I've added the lines of the poem corresponding to each death in the beginning of each chapter.

If anyone gets confused with the giant number of OCs, next chapter will contain a list with most of their names. I normally hate using OCs, but I need victims for the killer, and I think that killing some characters from DN and HP would be very much underappreciated. I wouldn't do it, anyway. The only recognizable characters you'll see for now are Harry, L, Wammy and Hedwig. Maybe in the last chapters there will be some of the kids from Wammy's house, but I make no promises.

Thank you all for Reading, and special thanks go to AelinVehuelAkero, xDarklightx, roobug21301, RandomAsRainbows, snta, Ghostunderasheet, Growlithe and GreenApril for the pastries/sweets suggestions. They are very much appreciated.

Until next chapter ;)


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, Harry Potter nor And Then There Were None.

Pairing: HP/L

Warning: The crime scene of this chapter is a bit bloody. I don't know if its necessary to put this warning here or even change the fic's rating to M, but I'm mentioning it just to be safe.

* * *

><p><em>"Seven Little Soldier Boys chopping up sticks;<em>

_One chopped himself in halves and then there were six."_

* * *

><p>The metal piece was held delicately with a two-finger grip. Wide eyes, dark with large shiners under them to match, analyzed the figurine in extreme detail. It was very similar to its three 'siblings', save for the number seven on its feet. Made around the 30s… Was the date of any importance? Did the piece have a hidden meaning? Why did the killer's MO change, and what were his reasons for this? So many questions…<p>

L placed the lead soldier next to the previous ones. With his other hand, he picked up his fork, cut out a piece of his slice of lemon pie and ate it. He normally wouldn't have eaten a dessert made with such a sour fruit, but this one wasn't unpalatable for him at all. Besides, the alternative was the lemonade Wammy had threatened him with. Without sugar.

From a third person view, the detective had gracefully accepted the pie and refused the drink. Mentally, he almost (only almost!) trembled in face of the frightening way Wammy had found to convince him to eat his vegetables… Scratch that. Fruits. He wouldn't lower himself that much.

Okay.

Back to the investigative deliberation.

The Soldier Killer's victims had all escaped from punishment for their crimes, which could mean that the murderer was an officer of the law, maybe a judge, a lawyer, a police officer, a detective, etc. Maybe still working, maybe already retired or someone who had been fired.

As he munched, he began mentally listing possible suspects. From what he had gathered, all of the victims were, in some way, acquaintances of each other. His own link to this case was, coincidently, Phoenix; for the victims were people he or his friends knew. This meant that the murderer likely knew them all personally.

The only possible exception for this being himself, that is. Only Hadrian and the late Mrs. Fox had seen him, after all.

First suspects, then, were any officers of the law that were friends of Dr. Fox, for L suspected it was this death that triggered the assassin. Judge Amiralis, childhood friend of the lawyer, now the guardian of the other's daughter, since he was her Godfather. Bethany Fox, for that matter, law student. Daniel Hardwick, detective working on the murder of the late Dr. Fox. Lucian Marvelin, family of military and police officers, wanted to work in the Justice system, but became a doctor instead.

_Opportunity, Means and Motive… The three elements of criminal behavior._

The next name entered the list with much reluctance from his part. _Hadrian Black. _L didn't want to consider him a suspect, but there were many pieces on this puzzle that fit. In accordance to his theory, even though he was no officer, Phoenix solved many cases on his own and didn't trust the police. As such, the motive could very well be desolation with the Justice system, triggered by its inefficiency to protect innocents like his friend's father. Means… The first two murders were done with the assistance of a poison easily acquired, and the third happened on a place the magician went to frequently and could have staged the death. As for opportunity, well, in the first he was present and in the latter he could have easily set the trap. But in the second… This one was harder to guess, but L supposed he could have broken into the hospital; it was quite plausible since Hadrian had a large array of abilities, ranging from le parkour to escapism, from what L had observed.

Only one thing didn't fit, however, and it was in this L was putting all his hopes. The murderer's profile didn't fit Hadrian's. While he did believe in Justice and didn't trust any authorities, Phoenix wasn't someone who would kill for it. He was loyal to his friends; he wouldn't do anything to hurt them.

The problem was, he also wanted to protect the innocents, and the victims certainly weren't that.

L's mind was taken off from this dilemma by Hadrian's entrance. His face was red and he was panting. He had run to the hotel… Where had he come from? The library, of course.

"Ryuuzaki." He said between lungfulls of air. "Oh my God. You won't believe it." He stopped talking as he accepted a cup of water from Wammy. "Thank you, Mr. ...?"

"Waller." Answered L. "Why did you run to get here? Something happened?" The detective asked as he finished his lemon pie and started eating scones that were served with a selection of jams.

"Yes." Hadrian wasn't panting so hard anymore. "One of the librarians, Mrs. Tracy… Ahn, Genesis Tracy, she commented on the book I was reading. She said… That its plot seemed to fit with the Soldier Killer's agenda."

The scone with strawberry jam in the World's Three Greatest Detectives' hand fell to the floor.

A pattern, finally.

* * *

><p>"But Chief Patrice, look at this! They were responsible for that bomb that went off last year in Spain and the terrorist attack in the subways of Paris in September!"<p>

"The only proof you have is a dead man's work and his, now dead, wife's letter. This is not nearly enough proof to arrest a group of men that is outside of Britain. If you want anything to be done, you must first give me enough evidence!" The chief of the police raised his voice. "Now get out of here, detective Hardwick, and stop following me like a fucking stray!" With this final statement the man stomped towards his office and slammed the door.

Daniel Hardwick turned away sharply and left the police station. It was always the same thing. Every time he found a lead on a case, it was disregarded as soon as he presented it. He was tired of being the underdog in the office just because he was the newbie.

Well, actually, he was only the youngster. Daniel couldn't be considered a newbie anymore, since he joined them three years before.

Hardwick was so angry he only noticed his phone ringing after the fifth ring. Picking it up, he saw that the caller I.D. was Dr. Rennins', the psychologist of Dr. Fox's daughter. The detective had attempted contacting him before, to no avail. He had only managed to reach his secretary.

"Hardwick speaking."

"Detective? I have received your message."

"Is that so? Will you help me, then?"

"I do not know, it depends on what you want to achieve in talking to me that you would not with Miss Fox."

"I need a professional opinion. Besides, she doesn't answer any of my questions."

"Do you know who killed her father?"

"Yes, I do. But I need more evidence, or this case won't be able to hold itself in court. And I've yet to convince my boss to detain the suspects."

"If that is the case, I will talk to you, but it will not be soon. I am leaving the country today for a conference in Switzerland."

"When will you be back?"

"It is not certain, but likely around the end of the month."

"Can you warn me in advance?"

"My secretary will do so. Now, I must end this call."

"Thank you." The phone went off before the detective could say anything else.

* * *

><p><em>Ring.<em>

_Ring._

_Riiing. Beep._

"Hey, here is Beth Fox. If I haven't picked up the phone, then I'm probably out. Leave your message!" _Beep._

"Miss Fox, here is Doctor Rennins. I am calling to notify you that we will have to cancel our meetings until the end of the month. If you need to contact me, ring this number or my secretary's. Detective Hardwick called me, by the way, looks like there is an interesting development with your father's case. I would call him if I were you. Good luck." _Beep._

* * *

><p>Hadrian wasn't able to reach Mrs. Tracy the day after their talk. The second day, however, he received a voice message from her telling him to come over anytime to talk.<p>

He noticed the message a few hours after receiving it, but didn't reply. He went as soon as possible to the library.

The place was deserted when he arrived. There wasn't a living soul inside, although the door was unlocked when he attempted to open it.

It was sunny outside, dry and windy, but indoors the place was deeply shadowed and humid, there was a metallic smell in the air. The bookshelves were dismounted, the books in piles lined up against one of the walls. There were tools for joiners and cabinet-makers scattered everywhere, and dust covered all surfaces.

Something was wrong.

Hadrian walked carefully towards the back, minding his step. His trainers touched dark liquid. Blood.

The performer could only call Ryuuzaki before he freaked out.

Mrs. Tracy was dead.

* * *

><p>The following hour magnificently illustrated the reason L never worked with the police.<p>

Knowing very well what procedure he had to follow in order to not become a suspect, L called the police as soon as he arrived in the crime scene. In no time, the site was isolated; they were interrogated and sent back home.

Human stupidity always made L fell like gagging, although he refused to display his emotions so blatantly.

The crime scene was isolated, yes, but a little bird in the police force decided to open its beak and sing everything it knew to the bloodhounds of the media who arrived there in a time that put the police's reaction to shame, trying to discover the identity of the Soldier Killer's newest victim. The questioning was done by an inexperienced officer, whose questions were all unimportant for the investigation, stupid and/or badly formulated.

What did they teach for the newbies these days?

And just when he thought human stupidity couldn't stretch itself anymore, they were sent home. Never mind if one of them were the murderer or not.

Thankfully, as soon as they were out of the police's sight, L called Wammy and notified him of the new murder, knowing the elder would send competent agents to take care of the crime scene.

They would be accompanying the investigation from L's current headquarters, but for now, though, L had to snap Phoenix out of his catatonic state and maybe channel the subsequent anger to make progress in the case.

* * *

><p>"Found her head!" Announced one of the officers working at the Soldier Killer's fourth victim's murder location. "Man, it was with the crime novels, right on top of a book called 'Ten Little Niggers'. Where is her left foot, by the way?"<p>

"I haven't the foggiest." Said another officer. "But the murder weapon was just found. It's a carpenter's tool, to cut wood…"

"An axe?"

"What? No! It's a… A… A hacksaw! "He looked at the sawn base of the nearest decapitated member. "And here I was thinking this killer was some kind of scaramouch, using poison and 'accidents' to do the job. He chopped her up as though she was, I don't know, ham!"

"Let's not compare the corpse with food, okay? Man, I think I'll never eat ham again. Or any kind of meat, for that matter."

"You get used to it, my friend. Now, we must go. The forensics team will be coming in right now, and it isn't pretty when they decide we're nuisances that must be kicked out."

"Did you see the witnesses?" The first officer said, trying to take his mind off the crime scene.

"Yeah, I did. Rumor has it that the detective questioning them was almost stuttering between the stares of pretty boy and that creepy bloke."

"I wouldn't have liked it if it were me. I'd have freaked out."

"Wouldn't we all? Come on. Let's go back to the police station."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, at Deneuve's HQ, L deliberated over the day's events as he ran his fingers through Phoenix's strands.<p>

Once again, the detective's thoughts went over the possibility of his friend being the killer. Even though he didn't want to consider it, he knew that most serial killers were capable of murdering and then acting as if they had just discovered the body. Or, better said, body parts.

The time of death was around one hour before Hadrian's call, and there were traces of blood in the restroom's sink, indicating the murderer had cleaned him- or herself there. DNA and fingerprints matched the users, volunteers and the reform team that frequented the place these past few days. There were no fingerprints on the weapon.

Normally, by now most detectives would have concluded the Soldier Killer was a man, because of the higher percentage of males committing crimes of this kind in comparison to females. L wasn't so sure; however, poison was usually employed by women, while the trap in the coffee shop could have been architected by both sexes. As such, even the murderer's gender was in question.

Besides that, he had researched the victim's past. Genesis Tracy was, apparently, the daughter of a minor crime lord in America and had worked with drug selling during her youth. Her father died when she was 23 years old, forcing her to step up and take his place. Two years later the 'family business' finally sunk and she escaped to the U.K., being taken in by her Grandmother from her mother's side, the elder dying of food poisoning two years later. Genesis, then, moved to London and began working as a librarian. She was murdered at her workplace twenty-four years later, the killer taking not only her life but also the information L could have extracted from her in regards to having discovered the Soldier Killer's pattern so easily.

Not to mention that the murderer was also mocking the investigators, for the book 'Ten Little Niggers', the one found under the decapitated head, was the title under which 'And Then There Were None' was originally published.

Sighing, L picked up the copy of the book Hadrian had rented weeks ago and began to read.

Better take his mind from Genesis Tracy for now, especially considering just _where_ the lead soldier was found this time.

Note to self: remember Wammy of sterilizing it before the piece even came near him.

Just for safety purposes. It was in her _mouth_, after all.

* * *

><p><em>Ring.<em>

_Ring._

_Riiing._

"Sophia Marvelin speaking."

"Hey, Soph, it's Luc. I've been trying to reach you for hours! Where are you?"

"Oh, it's you. I'm with Beth in the beauty salon, we're doing a makeover."

"I'm going there. It's the one near your flat?"

"Yes, it is. Don't take too long, in half an hour we'll already be finished."

"Got it. Bye."

"Ciao." Sophia said and ended the call.

"Who was it?" Asked Beth, her face hidden under the cover of the hair dryer.

"Lucian. He's coming here."

"What for?"

"I don't know, he didn't say anything."

"Oh, well, we'll know soon anyway." She paused. "Why do I have to use this thing while you don't?"

"Because I had my hair done right after arriving, you took forever with the nails and whatever you were doing in that room you had entered right away and spent hours there."

"It was a waxing, okay? No need to be so rude."

"I'm not being rude; it's just you who can't deal with it. Which color is your hair now, anyway? I didn't see it."

"Red, dark red. And naturally you didn't see it; you were flirting with that_masseur_ when the hairdresser dyed it."

"Not my fault he was so s…" Sophia was interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

"Sister, Bethany? You won't believe it." Lucian said, not even bothering with a greeting.

"What happened?" One of the women asked.

"Mrs. Tracy is dead."

* * *

><p>By nighttime, L had long since finished the book. Something about it made him worried, somehow.<p>

The detective knew, instinctively, that the Soldier Killer wouldn't follow all the events of the book to the letter. No, the assassin wouldn't do the same thing that the killer in the book did, if only to prevent being caught.

L accessed the file with his list of suspects in his computer, and began typing new names on the list. There were ten soldiers; nine victims and one murderer. As such, his list of suspects had to contain all the current victims (another note to self: move the corpses to a safe and undisclosed location) and all of their acquaintances that were possible targets. Total number of suspects: eleven, for now.

_Antonio Mervi, deceased_

_Bethany Fox_

_Daniel Hardwick_

_Dr. Rennins_

_Genesis Tracy, deceased_

_Hadrian Black_

_Isabel Fox, deceased_

_Judge Amiralis_

_Lucian Marvelin _

_Sophia Marvelin_

_Victoria Williams, deceased_

Four dead, six that would die, one that would live. Probably.

One of them could be the killer. Or not.

He could only hope Phoenix wasn't involved in this.

* * *

><p>Detective Hardwick was, once again, going through Dr. Fox's case.<p>

He had already discovered many interesting tidbits of information, such as Bethany's adoption papers. Who would have thought. She looked like the younger and female version of the lawyer.

Anyway, this wasn't important. He was more focused on her friends.

Sure he knew he shouldn't be looking into their lives anymore than absolutely necessary, but he had to cover all the bases in his search for evidence to prove Dr. Fox's murderers guilt.

Which brought him to his current situation, poking on Beth Fox's three closest friends' lives:

Lucian Marvelin had been the doctor of Johann Fox. Lived alone in a flat, currently 28 years old. Had a few bumps during his career, but his file seemed in order besides that.

Sophia Marvelin, street performer and violin teacher. Aged 25, was Lucian's little sister. Has been living in her parents' flat ever since their death. Clean file.

The third friend was one Hadrian Black, who didn't exist in any records besides a few videos in internet in which he was performing under the alias Phoenix. Simply appeared in London a few years ago.

Daniel Hardwick opened a vicious smile. Now there was something worthy of being investigated.

* * *

><p>Bethany Fox sat down on her bed as she lightly massaged her temples.<p>

Ugh, that bloody migraine was persistent.

It had been bothering her all day, and the talk with she had a few hours ago with the detective working in her father's case wasn't helping any.

She was very much irritated with what she'd learned. Even though the culprits had been identified, nothing was done to try and detain them. She went through the evidence and, for her; it was more than enough to condemn them, but apparently the higher-ranked officials weren't of the same opinion.

At least, she had the opportunity to learn some intriguing information that detective Hardwick had uncovered, especially about her friends. Well, actually, she already knew most of the things he revealed about the Marvelin siblings, and just as much as he had found about Hadrian. Which was nothing.

She knew, however, that he had a dark past. God knows he had unconsciously given enough clues about it.

Another spike of pain in her temples distracted her thoughts, acting as an ever-present reminder of her illness.

After her initial shock and panic attack, she had finally come to terms with it. Most of her belongings would be sold off in the event of her death and the money donated to her beloved library.

She was sad, though. Beth had all her future planned before discovering about the cancer. Anyway, there was no use in crying over spilt milk. Although she loved it, Bethany had quit her law studies to fully concentrate herself in one last project.

Her father was her everything, after all, and she wouldn't rest until all the scum that had made part of their live was disposed and taken care of. It was what had killed him, in the end.

* * *

><p>AN: Well, L's suspect list contains most of the OC's, but here is the complete list (with the exception of a few names that aren't really important):

_Antonio Mervi, works as a producer for an entertainment company. Deceased as of 12/23/02. Soldier killer's (SK) 1st victim, killed by poison._

_Bethany Fox, law student and volunteer in a public library, has brain cancer. Hadrian's friend_

_Chief Hugh Patrice, police chief_

_Daniel Hardwick, detective working on Dr. Fox's murder case_

_Dr. Johann Fox, lawyer and Beth Fox's father. Deceased as of 12/22/02. Killed by a hit man hired by the criminal group he was building a case against._

_Dr. Rennins, Beth's psychologist_

_Genesis Tracy, librarian. Deceased as of 01/09/03. SK's 4th victim, was decapitated in the library._

_Isabel Fox, Beth's mother and the Café Renard's owner (the place where L and Hadrian met). Deceased as of 01/05/03. SK's 3rd victim, killed by a staged accident in her coffee shop_

_Judge Amiralis, Dr. Fox's friend, Beth's Godfather_

_Lucian Marvelin, medic, Sophia's older brother and Victoria's fiancée. Hadrian's friend_

_Sophia Marvelin, street performer and music teacher, Lucian's little sister. Hadrian's friend_

_Victoria Williams, nurse and Lucian's fiancée. Deceased as of 12/26/02. SK's 2nd victim, killed by poison._

_+ Note: Wammy's alias in this case is Waller._

- AyumiUK: Revisei o texto algumas vezes antes de postá-lo, mas alguns erros sempre acabam passando. Você poderia indicar os falsos cognatos que você encontrou? Quanto à sua sugestão de trocar pastry por Strudel, verifiquei as palavras no dicionário. Ambas significam doce, entre outros significados, mas prefiro usar pastry por estar em inglês. A palavra Strudel, apesar de ser conhecida por causa de receitas como Apfelstrudel, provavelmente causaria confusão para alguns leitores. Obrigada pelo review, aliás. Se não fosse por ele, não teria notado alguns erros deste capítulo. Beijos :)

- twilightserius: Actually, Lucian has no idea of Soph's plans. She'll be just coaxing him to think of Hadrian as more than a friend. She's a bit bonkers, though, and her mental health declines a bit on the following chapters.

-I only noticed this weekend that, for some reason, only the first letter of the name of the reviewer I answered last chapter appeared on the answer. I tried to correct it, but my computer is not collaborating (Its ridiculous, I attempted it 6 times.). Anyway, the response is there, that's what's important.

Well, thank you

all for reading. I always love your awesome reviews :)


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Death Note, Harry Potter and And then There Were None aren't mine.

Pairing: HP/L

* * *

><p><em>Six Little Soldier Boys playing with a hive;<em>

_A bumblebee stung one and then there were five._

* * *

><p>Two days after Mrs. Tracy's death, on an effort to drown his mourning humor, Hadrian decided to work on some sort of defense system against the Soldier Killer for himself and, hopefully, for Deneuve. The problem was in making something inconspicuous but efficient enough so that it would be unnoticeable for the detective but still protect him.<p>

The key for accomplishing this aim was simple to wield, magic.

Well, at least for him, it was.

Now he just had to think of something that could protect them from anything the murderer could employ, from poison to pointed objects and from freak accidents to bombs. And that's where he was stuck, having come up with nothing at all.

An obvious solution would be to create a portkey that would whisk him away at any sign of danger, and use a ring that would warn its user if any kind of poison ever came near them. However, those were obviously magical solutions, and, as such, were pretty much unhelpful.

The answer was hard to come by, even because he had to do everything from scratch, for he had no magical books to consult. What he had was his own magic, muggle technology (not that it would be of any help, considering it tended to result in something akin to fireworks in contact with magic, and that wasn't exactly what he was aiming for), and the magical animals and plants he had accidentally discovered the existence of months ago. It wasn't anything as dramatic as dragons and unicorns, devil snares and whomping willows**, **but still, it was something.

Hadrian began writing down a few ideas. Notice-me-not charms, fire-proofing and bubble-head charms, every single thing he could think to protect someone against a physical attack. He would be working on this project in his spare time, for it wasn't something he could do in a single day.

Although that piece would take some time, the solution he had found for the poison was much easier to employ.

He'd just need to find a goat.

* * *

><p>Doctor Rennins sipped his coffee as he read the newspaper. Seeing the name of the newest victim of the Soldier Killer, he was grateful for having left Britain. There, in the Netherlands, he was safe.<p>

He was not even trying to fool himself; he knew very well he could become one of the targets. He fit the requirements to become one like a glove.

Putting away the newspaper, he looked down to the box on his lap, analyzing it carefully. It was beautiful, made in mahogany with animals carved on the wood.

It had been a gift from Doctor Fox. They had had many classes together in college, and ended up becoming friends, their bond having lasted for three decades until his death. The box was a late birthday gift, one he had been sent by his friend's wife, Isabel Fox, the week after his death and hadn't had the opportunity to open yet. Now, all alone in a foreign country, it was time to open it.

Inside, neatly arranged side-by-side, laid eight Cuban cigars.

Picking one up with his long fingers, he raised it to eye-level. The brand appeared to be decidedly expensive. It was not the kind of thing he normally smoked, but Doctor Fox certainly knew his hobby of trying out every existing brand of tobacco, in any possible way of doing so. He also did the same with alcoholic beverages.

Taking his lighter out of his pocket, he lightened the one he was holding. It was the first, and its label depicted the silhouette of a four legged animal. Written under it, were words on a language he didn't know. The name didn't matter, anyway.

As he smoked, Doctor Rennins watched the snow falling outside through the hotel's window. It was a peaceful view, indeed.

He just hoped Britain's newest serial killer was detained by the time he would return home.

* * *

><p>Two days later, chaos ruled absolute in a particular police station in London.<p>

Police Chief Hugh Patrice had disappeared after going back home the previous night, and no one knew where he was. His mobile phone wasn't receiving any calls; his wife had gone to bed early and didn't notice he was missing, there were no notes left.

Speculation run rampant. Had the man been taken hostage? If so, by whom? Was he dead? Alive? Where was he? These and other questions were muttered, shouted, discussed and wondered about by all.

Oblivious to the drama inside the station, a post-man parked the delivery van in front of the building. He entered and asked a nearby officer where he could find Ms. Davis, and the man pointed towards the disappeared Chief's assistant's cubicle. The postman walked towards her and silently gave her a letter, tipped his hat and walked away.

Ms. Katherina Davis looked at the envelope on her desk. The sender was Ulric Noah Owen, whom she didn't know. Shrugging, she opened it.

The letter inside had been typed and contained what looked like a small poem:

_"__Way down in county Kerry_

_In a place they called Tralee_

_A fine old couple they lived here_

_Kate and Pat Magee_

_They were going to have a party_

_On their Golden Jubilee_

_Now Pat says to Kate Magee_

_Come and look for me"_

* * *

><p>Hadrian sipped his cinnamon tea as he waited for approval.<p>

The man sat (read: perched) on the couch in front of him examined the food placed on top of the coffee table between them. It was a slice of cake, one that Phoenix had made by Waller's request. Apparently, the elderly man was recruiting help on his quest to make his charge eat something healthy every once in a while. He was more than happy to oblige.

The desert was poked at with a silver fork, as though checking for signs of life.

"What is this?" Deneuve finally asked.

"Chocolate and pear cake." He replied.

"Why not strawberry?"

"Out of season." The magician chirped, enjoying the situation thoroughly.

The detective pouted. "What do I gain if I eat it?"

"A higher life expectancy."

"I don't feel like eating it."

"You will."

"How are you so certain of that?"

"Because if you do, I'll let you taste fried ice cream."

"I have tried it before."

"Not the one with cacao crust. Well, it isn't actually fried, but I know you'll like it. I can do it with strawberry ice cream if you want."

"You will have to make a better deal than that."

"Ugh, fine, what do you want?" Hadrian asked, but didn't receive an answer. "Okay, then, let's make a deal: if you eat the cake, you get the ice cream and a surprise."

"It depends, what is it?"

"Now, that would be telling."

"What guarantees me that you'll hold onto your promise?"

"Come on, please?" He begged, appealing to the puppy dog eyes.

"You owe me." Ryuuzaki grumbled while starting the slice.

"Yeah, sure."

That day, Hadrian silently thanked Merlin and Morgana, for Deneuve never noticed the powdered bezoar that certainly wasn't in the original chocolate and pear cake's recipe.

It might have been the promised surprise that distracted him, though. As soon as L tried the first bite, Phoenix went and stole a quick kiss on the lips, leaving after that without a word.

* * *

><p>At night, Hadrian was startled by someone knocking on his door. He had long left Deneuve's current HQ, and had decided to finish reading "And Then There Were None", if only to have an idea of the Soldier Killer's agenda.<p>

Hearing the knock, he swiftly closed the book and stood up to open the door. It was Lucian.

"What are you doing here, so late?" Phoenix asked.

"I was walking nearby when I remembered Sophia commenting about how stressed you seemed, because of those past day's events. So I decided to come here and check on you."

"Events?" He said, an ironic smile dancing on his lips. "Figures you would call these recent killings events."

"Wait, I didn't mean it like that." The doctor said, trying to rectify his error.

"Don't worry, I can relate. Sometimes, it's better to use euphemisms, than the bare truth." With that comment, the performer turned his back to him and walked to the kitchen. "Are you coming in? If we're going to talk, better do so over tea and biscuits."

The visitor scurried off to obey. When Lucian joined the other, he found him already sat at the kitchen table, sipping on a teacup.

Silence stretched between then. "So…" The guest began. "How were you those last few days?"

"Horrible. I haven't made any progress in the case, besides identifying the killer's inspiration. He or she didn't leave any other clue, besides the fact that the only people they kill are my friends or their families and acquaintances, which makes this situation that much worse. The chances of it being someone I know is bloody high, but I can't imagine any of my friends actually doing any of this. Do you wish for me to continue?"

"No, I understand. They're my friends too." The doctor bit onto a biscuit. "Have you found something about Victoria? Why she was killed? The media didn't find out much, and the police isn't talking."

"Well, Lucian, it's best if you don't…"

"Oh, cut it off." He interrupted. "Please," The man said, now more subdued. "Tell me."

"Very well." Hadrian sighed. "Victoria Williams seemed to enjoy killing patients on their deathbeds, and had a knack for getting away with it. That's all I know." He paused, looking for the other's reaction. "Lucian? Are you alright?"

"Yes, just give me a moment." He muttered, resting his head on his hands.

Silently, Hadrian stood up and collected the dirty dishes. Taking them to the sink, he turned on the radio, if only for the ambient sound.

_"… __of December, the prime minister announced the inauguration of…"_

_Zap._

_"… __breakthrough discovery by Elizabeth Renard has the potential to…"_

_Zap._

_"… __York stock market went up 3,5% in March last…"_

_Zap. Zap._

_"… __raising star in the musical industry was seen yesterday with…"_

_Zap._

"Could you turn it off, please? It's giving me a headache." The doctor asked.

"Me too." The magician agreed, doing as asked. "There isn't anything interesting on the radio today." He looked at his visitor. "So, any conclusion?"

"Yes. She lied to me, said those deaths were all natural." He looked dejected. "I don't know what to do."

"You should try and live a little." Hadrian suggested. "See the world; go out with people, whatever. Take her out of your mind."

"Maybe I will." Lucian said as he stood up and placed himself right in front of the other. "Maybe. Thank you." He completed, leaving a small kiss on his cheek, almost on the lips.

Hadrian could only touch his cheek and watch astonished as the man left his flat.

* * *

><p>L skimmed over the file Wammy had handed him as he stuffed a piece of cinnabon inside his mouth. Having heard about the ruckus in the police HQ that morning, the detective had requested a copy of the letter.<p>

The text wasn't anything special, really, and was probably part of a poem or of a song. He just had to identify which.

Phoenix arrived right in the moment he found the answer. "What are you doing?"

"Research."

"Could you elaborate your answer, or do I have to persuade you?'

"Will it hurt?"

"I don't know, depends on you."

"The police Chief was kidnapped and the culprit sent a message to his secretary. I'm decoding it."

"Soldier Killer?"

"It isn't certain yet."

"Okay. May I see it? Thank you." The magician said after receiving it. "Looks like it's a song."

"It is." The detective pointed to his computer screen, where the complete lyrics were displayed. "Here. Traditional Irish music, Golden Jubilee."

"Nice." He commented as he read it. "Different from what I'm used to, but definitely nice." He compared the two passages. "They are different, however."

"Yes, the names are swapped and a verb plus preposition were changed on the last two lines."

Letter

_"__Now Pat says to Kate Magee_

_Come and look for me."_

Original

_"__Now Kate says to Pat Magee_

_Come and listen to me."_

"Seems like whoever sent this wants us to look for this Pat Magee. Is it the Chief?" Hadrian asked leaning over L's shoulder.

"Yes, look." He opened another window on the screen, and searched for the name Magee. He read the results out loud. "Magee comes from Mac Aodha. Aodh..." He clicked on the name. "… Means fire. Irish mythology. Anglicized form: Hugh."

""And Patrice can be shortened to Pat, while his secretary's name, Katherina, is Kate. Which means, we're looking for the police chief Hugh Patrice. Is there a sender's name?"

"Yes. Ulric Noah Owen. Obviously a false name, for it is very similar to the one used by the killer in the book."

"U. N. Owen. Unknown. It means that…"

"…This is the work of the Soldier Killer." The detective completed.

"Does it say where he is?"

"Except for _'Way down in county Kerry/ In a place they called Tralee', _there isn't any obvious location indicated. And I doubt he is in Ireland. This must be a diversion."

"This means he is… Oh, I know! Open a map of…" He trailed off; noticing a document Ryuuzaki had forgotten open in a nearby screen. "What is this?"

"This is a…" He attempted to distract Phoenix. Too late. The magician was already looking through his list of suspects. Any time now…

"I'm a suspect?" _Shit_.

* * *

><p>Detective Hardwick, even though he knew he shouldn't, was rejoicing his boss' disappearance. The reason? Now he didn't have the man looking over his shoulder, criticizing his work and shooting down any attempt he made of arresting a suspect. The substitute for Chief Patrice was so engrossed in sorting through all the paperwork and organizing the mess the police station had become, that Hardwick was free to do his work without supervision.<p>

He had finally managed to contact some police forces in Australia and South America; however, he was still waiting for an answer from the Russians. Things were going slowly, but nevertheless it was progress, something that wasn't happening the previous weeks on Dr. Fox's murder case.

To say the truth, Daniel Hardwick didn't really think his boss was alive anymore. Something was telling him that he was the Soldier's Killer newest victim, and that the body was right now laying somewhere in London, forgotten, until Deneuve solved the killer's riddle and found the corpse.

He wondered how the man died. Poison, like the first two? Was he decapitated? Crushed, perhaps? Or did he die in a completely different way? He did not know. Maybe it was better this way.

Sighing, the detective turned on his laptop. If he had time to think, then he should use it for nobler purposes such as tracking down Dr. Fox's murderers, and avoid fantasizing about killing his boss.

* * *

><p>With the objective of taking his mind out of his feelings in regards to Deneuve's suspicions of him being the murderer, Hadrian decided to go to the streets and perform. He hadn't done it for a few days, engrossed as he was with the case, but now was a good time; he needed a change of ambient.<p>

This explained his current position, hanging upside down while a containment shirt restricted the movements from his waist up (or was it down? You know, considering that he was… Never mind).

Nodding to one of his spectators (also known as the guy who was going to time everything), he began freeing himself of the reinforced sleeves. This was one of his performances where he was proud of the fact that he didn't use an ounce of magic for the show. Well, maybe just a bit. Otherwise, it would be very troublesome to guarantee that the support to which his feet where tied down would stay straight and firm.

Anyway, back to the show. He let out all the air he had been holding, having taken a deep breath before the shirt was fastened, thus loosening it and making more space to move. Afterwards, he lifted one of his elbows to uncross his arms. When they both were free and he could almost touch the floor with them extended, the magician unfastened the chains keeping his hands tied together, and then did the same to the ones on his back.

His head pounded from the blood flowing there, his arms were hurting from the contortionism he was subjecting them to and his legs were numb, making it difficult to even think. Nevertheless, he wasn't bothered.

It was definitely the best way to take unwanted topics out of his mind.

* * *

><p>Lucian Marvelin found him half an hour later, free of restraints and drinking greedily from a bottle of water. The crowd had dispersed long before.<p>

"Having fun?" The doctor asked, smiling.

"A blast." Hadrian answered, finishing his drink. "What are you doing here?"

"I was just jogging when I saw someone with mad-scientist hair drinking water like it was the gods' nectar. It could only be one person. So, what happened?"

"Escapism." He said, as if it explained everything. It actually did.

"Okay, then." He offered a hand, helping the magician to stand up. "Come on. I heard Café Renard was reopened yesterday."

"Must I go? I was feeling ecstatic here on the grass. You know, in the middle of nature and all that shit."

"Yes, you must. And you'll also tell me what is making you feel depressed."

"I'm not depressed."

"Yes, you are. Don't even try, Black, you know you can't lie. Now, come on. I want to arrive there before it is dark." He said, already walking.

The performer trailed after him, mumbling about doctors and their tendency to order the others around. Lucian only chuckled and led him to the coffee shop.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry people for the delay in updating this chapter. I blame Santa Claus.

Let's go to the interesting business, shall we?

I have almost finished typing chapter 9, and will be up earlier if you manage to solve a challenge *wiggles eyebrows*. A few chapters back, I said on an a/n that I had mentioned a character from Death Note, that is not L nor Wammy. No use in going back to read the a/n, however, I've already excluded this part. To find the character is the first part of the challenge. In the second part, you must discover the place where the Soldier Killer killed his/her last victim, in accordance to the clues I gave you in this chapter, not forgetting that it is somewhere in London. If you only know one answer, there's no problem. Next chapter will be up when both parts are answered, but it doesn't need to be on the same review or answered by the same person. If nobody manages to answer, I'll update after I finish typing chapter 10 (I prefer to always have a chapter ready). Good luck ;)

Thank you guys for the reviews, you are wonderful. Wait, better yet: you people are marvelously awesome :D


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Death Note nor And Then There Were None

Pairing: HP/L

* * *

><p><em>"Five Little Soldier Boys going in for law;<em>

_One got into Chancery and then there were four."_

* * *

><p>Later that evening, L and Waller (otherwise known as Quillish Wammy) could be found near the Golden Jubilee Bridges, one of many that crossed the Thames River in London.<p>

Normally, the detective wouldn't even bother to step outside his hotel room, instead sending the local police force with one or two agents he deemed above average in competency. That day, however, knowing very well that staying in his current HQ would only give him the opportunity to sulk and wonder to himself how had he managed to commit the stupidity that was to leave the document listing his suspicions open for all to see (in his defense, Phoenix caught him by surprise), he decided to go in person to examine the mortal remains of the Soldier Killer's newest victim.

And, by all the lollipops of London, what a number they did on this soldier.

Police Chief Hugh Patrice had died not by one, in likeness to the poem and the book, but by exactly two hundred and twenty-seven bee stings. The lead soldier was found in his left hand, almost unnoticeable, for the hand's size had almost doubled because of the swelling.

The body's identification, even though its identity was obvious, would later be confirmed through DNA analysis. The face and fingerprints were so haggard that it was one of the few methods available, the other being identification through dental records. The other obvious way would be to search for his documents, and would have been the first thing done hadn't the body been completely nude. The remains of his belongings had been found dumped in a nearby trashcan, but weren't fit to use for identification for it was all ashes and molten metal; even his I.D., the drivers license and his police badge.

The corpse had been relatively easy to find, for all he had to do was google _Golden Jubilee London_, and many of the images that appeared were of the Golden Jubilee Footbridges either side of the Hungerford Railway Bridge, which spans the Thames between Charing Cross and the Southbank.

There was one thing, however, that L found decidedly suspicious – The victim, this time, didn't have any real contact with the previous soldiers, nor with their acquaintances, with the exception of detective Daniel Hardwick, who only had been in contact with the late Mrs. Isabel Fox, and the still alive Ms. Bethany Fox and Dr. Rennins, her psychologist. The question was why the Soldier Killer had broken his pattern. He certainly didn't run out of victims. Revenge, perhaps?

L had pulled up the man's records while Wammy drove them to the crime scene. Corruption, naturally, was one of the first things that had come up. The police chief was very well paid to discourage investigation on certain matters; such as a few sums of money disappearing from this or that company, overpaid politicians, a few smugglings on the side… The detective couldn't believe the sheer quantity of things that man had gotten away with.

He picked up a few connections to some of the victims and suspects on the Soldier's case, though. The man was responsible for hindering the investigation of Dr. Fox's murder case, and had worked with some of the relatives of the Marvelin siblings before (A/N: remember that Sophia and Lucian were from a family of military and police officers?), although there were a few documents that hinted at rivalry with them, something which sometimes resulted in work 'accidents'.

The World's Three Greatest Detectives had a feeling that the killer's pace had just begun to speed up, and that the real horror had yet to begin. This hunch was directly related to the fact that the chief's weapon was missing and likely in his murderer's possession.

Not for the first time, L hoped he was wrong.

Being always right was, as Hadrian would call it, _a pain in the ass._

* * *

><p>"Who's that?" Sophia asked.<p>

Lucian lazily lowered the newspaper and looked at her. "Who is..?"

"The woman in the cover, you dimwit. Who's she? She looks familiar." His sister asked, impatiently.

He spied the cover, and then looked again with widened eyes. After that, the doctor relaxed. "The hair looks like Beth's, doesn't it? It isn't her, however. This is Elizabeth Renard; she works at the Institute of Psychiatry, Psychology and Neuroscience. She's awesome."

"I have heard he name before, why?"

"Ms. Renard is one of the leading researchers at the department of Forensic Mental Health Science, having done many important discoveries on the field."

"Do you know her well?"

"No. We're merely acquaintances."

"Uh, okay." She looked at the newspaper once more. "What happened? It looks like this isn't an article about some new discovery of hers. I mean, it wouldn't be on the front page if it was."

In response, the man opened the newspaper on the table in front of him and began reading the article. "Looks like she disappeared. Here, look." He pointed to the third paragraph. "She had taken the week before off work, but hadn't returned on Monday. Her employer called her and she didn't pick it up. On Tuesday, he alerted the authorities. Nobody knows for how long she's been disappeared."

"Do you think she was kidnapped?" His sister asked, fearfully.

"Who knows? For all we know, she had a mental breakdown and decided to run away."

"Is that possible? Does this happens frequently with doctors that works with, you know, crazy people?"

"I don't know, it depends on the person. I think it could happen in any field, to speak the truth. But don't call their patients crazy. Every single person is mad, in a way."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I don't know much about it, but I've heard that, sometimes, psychopathic behavior can affect the people with whom they interact. I've no idea in which degree this happen nor how it happens, though, so I can't really answer your question. Nevertheless, my bet is that she was kidnapped."

"Do you think it was the Soldier Killer?"

"No, I don't think so. Rumor has it that his last victim was the police chief."

"Oh, okay then." Sophia said. "Hey, have you seen Hadrian those last few days?" She changed topics.

"Yes, I did. Last time I saw him, he seemed upset."

"Why?"

"I have no idea. I'll ask him the next time I see him."

"Do you guys have anything planned?"

"Yeah, we're going out for dinner. Hopefully, he'll be in a better mood."

"Well, knowing how difficult to deal with he is when he is moody, I wish you good luck."

"Thank you. I'll need it."

* * *

><p>"What are you doing?" Asked Hadrian Black as he entered Café Renard and came upon Bethany Fox, the new owner of the place, working on something at the counter.<p>

She lifted her head, surprised. "Oh, it's you, Black. I'm just placing my law books in this box, to take it later to a library. Since I stopped my studies, I won't need them anymore." She answered.

"And why did you quit?" He questioned her.

"Something came up, and I wouldn't be able to manage the workload on top of working at the coffee shop, going to the psychologist and dealing with detective Hardwick, who's working on my father's case. And I'm also helping to put together the library. It's been a mess ever since Mrs. Tracy's death." Closing the box, she picked up the tape to seal the thing.

"I can imagine." The magician commented.

"How? You weren't there."

"Yes, but you know my hobby. I couldn't contain myself, and had to look into the case. Besides, it's ridiculously easy to break into the police's system." Without her asking, he picked up the scissors on a nearby table and handed it to her. "Actually, it was this murder that clued the investigators on the murderer's MO."

"Really? Wow, it took forever. What is it, anyway?"

"Whoever they are, he or she bases the deaths on the events of one of Agatha Christie's books. Naturally, the police only noticed this after Mrs. Tracy's head was found on top of a copy of the book that had a bookmarker on the page of the poem in which the assassin based his own murders."

"But doesn't this make it easier to find the murderer?"

"Not necessarily, he or she has twisted the events of the book enough so that they wouldn't be caught. There's a chance that we might get some clues on the next victim, however, since, in the book, the sixth death was actually faked, so that no one would find the identity of the killer."

"You know you haven't really told me the name of the book, don't you? I can't understand what you're talking about if I haven't read it." She said amused.

"I'm sorry, I forgot." He apologized. "Here." He handed her something. "This is my copy of the book. I've already read it, and I've another at home."

"Thank you." She said. "I'll have a look at it when I finish this."

"It's nothing." He looked around. "Hey, is there anything to eat here? I thought it would be functioning today…"

"Earlier today I baked some of my mother's favorite French recipes. There's Paris-Brest, Religieuse and Far Breton on the display. I just ask you not to help yourself to any of the Bouchées de Noël, they have already been ordered. God knows why, though, since Christmas was last month. The coffee machine is over there." She said gesticulating to the left.

"I have just one question, Bethany…"

"Yes?"

"What does a Bouche looks like?"

* * *

><p>Four days later, at eight sharp, Hadrian Black and Lucian Marvelin could be found at a discreet and out-of-the-way restaurant, having dinner.<p>

Their table was in a secluded space, the ambient sound being soft murmurs and the discreet sound of cutlery, accompanied by instrumental music. There were no electrical lights in the restaurant, and the illumination was provided by candles with old glass bottles serving as their support, one placed on top of each table. There weren't many costumers there.

"Lucian," Hadrian called softly "what are we doing here?" He asked.

"Dining, of course. What did you think I meant when I said I was taking you to a restaurant?"

"I thought you meant a normal one. I mean, this place is way too fancy." The magician whispered.

"It actually isn't. Just different. If it had electric light instead of candles, and no ambient music, this would be just like any other restaurant."

"Are you in your right mind? Have you seen those prices? And the dishes! I won't be able to afford more than an entry or maybe a soup here."

"Haven't I told you to choose anything you wanted? I'm paying. It's only right to do so, after all. I invited you, didn't I?"

"Yes, but…" He was interrupted.

"Excuse me, sirs, are you ready to order?" The waiter asked.

"No, we…" Hadrian started, but Lucian cut it.

"Yes. We would like…" And the doctor then made their order, with his companion all the while sulking on his seat. When the waiter left, Lucian turned to him. "Do not sulk, it doesn't suit you. You need not to worry about money. Just relax, and enjoy." And with this last statement, he ended the discussion.

Hours later, after their meal, the man accompanied him back home. When they were in front of his building, Hadrian turned around to say goodbye to his friend. At least, that was what he intended to do.

He found himself trapped between the front door and Lucian, his arms at either side of his body, blocking any flight attempt. The doctor lowered his mouth to his ear. "Won't you give me a farewell kiss?"

The wizard had many thoughts running around in his mind, trying to find an appropriate excuse to not do so. He was saved, however, by his phone ringing.

"Excuse me, I must take it." He said, escaping the other's grasp. "Hello?"

"Hadrian? Could you go check up on Beth? Her psychologist called me, saying he hasn't been able to contact her these last few days, and I am too far away to get there quickly." It was Sophia.

"Don't worry, I'll go. Does she have a spare key anywhere? You know, in case I need to enter."

"Under the rug at the front door. Thank you, I owe you one."

"It's no problem."

"Okay, then. Bye."

"Bye." He said, and the phone went off. "Lucian, could you give me a ride?"

"Where to?" The man said, looking entirely put off at being interrupted.

"Beth's. Soph says she hasn't been answering the phone."

"It's probably nothing. Do I get a kiss?"

"Only after we have checked up on her."

The man huffed. "Fine." He walked towards his car. "What are you waiting for? Come on, let's go."

* * *

><p>It was a dark room.<p>

Inside it, there were two people. One alive, the other not so much.

It had been a beautiful murder, in the eyes of its executor. The room was bare, except for a heavy wooden chair, not unlike those used in a court. The corpse was sat on it, dressed in loose white pants made with a light fabric, in contrast with the containment shirt that had restricted its movements while it was still alive. Inside the sleeves, both hands had been burnt up to the elbows, and were now black and shriveled. The victim's hair had been covered by a white wig, similar to those seen on top of the heads of nobles in paintings and movies.

The killer left swiftly then, almost as if it was a mirage.

It was a dark room, with a wooden chair and corpse illuminated by a single candle, dressed all in white save for the red that had flowed from the bullet's wound at its head and the metallic shine of the lead soldier dangling from a thin chain clasped around the neck.

The scene was somewhat poetic. Or, at least, it was so for the one who staged it all.

* * *

><p>It was to this scene that the pair stumbled upon when they arrived at Bethany Fox's flat. There had been no need for the spare key under the rug, since the door was already open.<p>

There was nothing unusual inside, at first glance, save for the fact that Beth was nowhere to be seen. Hadrian and Lucian separated, and began their search.

It wasn't much later when the magician opened one of the closed doors, and came upon his dead friend's body. He froze, and barely reacted as Lucian entered the room and began checking for signs of life. He did, though, recuperate enough to call Ryuuzaki. It did not matter that he was mad for his friend's suspicions of his guilt; he would need the other's help now, once again.

* * *

><p>Many miles away, on another country, Dr. Rennins contemplated the news in regards to the Soldiers' case. He wondered over the disappearance of his colleague, Elizabeth Renard, and his mind strayed over his own patients.<p>

He took another drag of cigar number three. Inhale, exhale. His eyes lazily followed the ring of smoke he had just made.

He had not gotten an interesting case to work with in years. Most of his current clients were either teenagers, who did not have any more of an idea of what they were doing in his office than he did (blame the mothers), One or two hypochondriacs, a few people trying to deal with some unfortunate event, a dope fiend and a handful of mouse potatoes. The latter, naturally, were always extremely enthusiastic to leave at the end of each session.

The only excitement in his work nowadays seemed to be a client who had at first started as one of his 'light' cases. Normally he would be bored to tears, except for rare exceptions that were not really that interesting, but this time it had caught his attention. At first, Dr. Rennins had felt a rush of adrenaline tinted with a healthy dose of fear. He had detected traits of psychopathic behavior. But, a few meetings later, he decided that he was wrong, although that doesn't mean he let his guard down. There was something there, some part of this person's psyche was very well hidden and he wasn't sure if he wanted to discover what it was.

His mobile phone, then, started ringing. Dr. Rennins glanced at the name that appeared on the screen. Detective Hardwick. Standing up, he discarded the cigar he had been smoking and started rummaging through his wine cellar.

He wasn't in the mood to pick up the call.

* * *

><p>Thankfully, Deneuve didn't take long to pick up his phone. No words were proffered about the 'incident', all Hadrian had to do was ask for the detective to come and he received an affirmative.<p>

The magician thought this briefness might be because of something the other noticed in his tone of voice, but he didn't dwell on this thought. The vision of the crime scene consumed what appeared to be all of his brain's activity.

Lucian had already fallen on his knees, mindless of the blood staining his trousers, and was efficiently checking for signs of life, searching for a pulse or making sure the victim wasn't breathing with a mirror. Even though it seemed in vain, for the shot was directed towards the vic's head, the knowledge that there were actually cases in which somebody survived such a deadly damage to the brain and that, according to the freshness of the blood, the crime had occurred not long before their arrival, there was still hope.

But, as the doctor paused in his attempts, Hadrian realized it wasn't the case.

* * *

><p>The police arrived a few minutes later and took control of the crime scene. Hadrian and Lucian were questioned (And wasn't this situation familiar? This had also happened in Genesis Tracy's murder. How comforting.), but while the doctor was free to go home, the wizard was forced to wait for Waller to pick him up and take him to Ryuuzaki.<p>

Hadrian didn't really care anymore. He was so tired of this case. So, so tired of this murderer who took pleasure in targeting his friends and their significant ones.

The drive towards the HQ ended in a matter of minutes. In no time, the street performer was in Deneuve's hotel room, right in front of him and avoiding his eyes. He fixed his gaze on one of the screens when he heard the sound of an incoming e-mail, glad for the excuse.

Only then the detective tore his eyes from the newcomer, and opened the message. Not long later, at least half of the screens of the room displayed a photo of the crime scene, in all possible angles. Acting as thought Phoenix wasn't there, Deneuve quietly examined the images.

"Ryuuzaki, I…" He began, but was interrupted.

"Victim: Bethany Fox, 22 years old, college dropout. Orphaned recently. British, born in Salisbury. Worked at the same library victim number 4 did, inherited victim number 3's coffee shop. Crimes: … None, unless the Soldier Killer believes her responsible for her father's murder." The insomniac detective paced from one image to another as he analyzed the information, reasoning out loud to avoid a conversation. "According to the blood's freshness, the murderer had left just a few minutes before the body's discovery through the open window that led to the emergency stairs… Body's position is a mix of the patients' clothes used in mental health institutions plus the traditional wooden chair and white wig normally associated with the legal courts of the past. The headshot… Cain's mark. No weapon found, suspected of being victim number 5's disappeared one…" He paused by Hadrian's side and sat on chair next to his still standing form. Before the magician could open his mouth again to attempt talking to the other again the doors opened, letting in Waller, who carried a tray full of sweets which he left in a free space on the detective's table. The older man then politely inquired if Hadrian wanted anything, to which he answered with a shook of his head.

As the man left the room, he returned his gaze towards Ryuuzaki, whom he noticed was skimming the book 'And _Then There Were None_'. The wizard pulled a chair and sat next to him. Their eyes met, for a second, and a silent agreement to not mention the reason Hadrian had disappeared was made, at least while they worked. Summoning all his Gryffindor courage, he asked, "Do you think that Bethany was involved with the killer? I mean, in the book the murderer had staged his death, and pretended to have been the sixth victim…"

"Difficult to be sure, this time. On the book, the killer had staged his death, but in this case this would be a feat much more complicated to accomplish. As we talk, there are many specialists around her body, working to confirm her identity through a DNA test, for there's a small possibility that the murderer used a look-alike."

"You are saying that Beth's the Soldier Killer?"

"It's a possibility. Up until now, the murderer did his best to follow the book to a T. But who knows, this might just one of the points in which our killer diverged from the original plan. Whoever they are, though, burned the corpse's hands, thus slowing down the body's identification."

"Okay." Said Hadrian, nodding. Suddenly, he remembered another bit of information from the book. "Hey, the next one to die wasn't the doctor?" Then, it dawned on him. "Holy shit, Lucian!"

* * *

><p>AN: I knew someone would get it right, I knew it! \o/

Lol. Anyway, virtual slices of strawberry shortcake and sugar with tea on top (L style) for Lunezx and Morrigahn- Dark Herald for solving last chapter's challenge.

Alright, here are the answers:

1. Character of Death Note mentioned in the story (not counting L and Wammy): Lind L. Taylor, in the 6th chapter: _"The first was Margarett Taylor. No surprise there, really. She was already very old; it was only a matter of time. She didn't even have a Family anymore, save for Lind, her grandson."_

2. Place where the Killer killed his/her last victim: Golden Jubilee Footbridges.

**Lunezx: **Oh, come on, how did you manage that? You only got one of the victim's name/ poem line match wrong! Not that I will, of course, tell you which. I've have na evil persona to uphold here. By the way, congrats on finding Lind. His presence in this fic and challenge was, naturally, coldly calculated ( is that even an expression in English? Whatever ¬¬). Lol. I didn't know about the rose garden, I really didn't. It would have fit better than the bridge but, alas, the chapter was already typed. You did get pretty close, though. If I remember it right, the footbridges were build in 2002 because of the Queen's jubilee. I'm not sure, however.

**Of Stories Told: **I swear you, I didn't see it this way. In regards to her being adopted, well, if she were the killer, I don't think it would really matter, blood relation or not. The adoption, in fact, plays a role completely different, that you might be able to detect either on this or the following chapters. Waxing would be really useful for an assassin who does not wants to be revealed ( How come I didn't see that when revising?), however, it would make a lot more sense if she had done it before the murders, especially the most gruesome ones ( cue Mrs. Tracy's death). Besides, eyebrows, eyelashes and hair can fall just as easily, if not more so, in a crime scene and cannot be 'removed' without it being too obvious. About Mrs. Tracy's head ending up on the crime section, that was to point out to the police that the killer used the book that was under it as a guideline. Now, brain cancer... I've never heard about it causing those kind of effects, but this theory has merits. I'll certainly research it. What I know is that sometimes head injuries can cause the victim to develop psychopathic behavior ( take a look into Phineas Gage's case, of 1848, if you want. It's unbelievable.). Also, next chapter will have that bit of crime scene investigation that I fell is very much needed in this story. I think you'll like it :)

**Morrighan- Dark Herald: **No, there were no Harry Potter characters running around in this story except for the Boy-who-lived himself and Hedwig. But, hey, you found the body. I almost thought nobody would guess it, since after Jan 11 nobody had reviewed. You have an awesome guesswork going on there.

Thanks for everybody who reviewed ( I get giddy reading your opinions), favorited, followed or just read the story. Next chapter might take a bit longer, I've only 25% of it written yet. Gotta do a bit more of research for that one.

Until next chapter,

Le corbeau noir


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